Stranded
by Qym
Summary: After Voyager crashes onto a strange planet, the crew is scattered, and the Alpha Quadrant feels that much farther away. Janeway/Seven. In progress. Cover by nicolaruth27.tumblr.
1. Crash Landing

Beta'd by LexTenou, whose suggestions have helped sculpt this piece beyond my expectations.

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1: Crash Landing

She sat up slowly, her heart hammering and her head throbbing. Based on the pain in her left leg, she was fairly certain she'd either broken a bone or seriously sprained something. In any event, she needed the Doctor's assistance, although she was also fairly certain she wouldn't be able to find the Doctor soon enough to sufficiently relieve the intense agony wiggling along her bones before she had to move. She refused to accept defeat preemptively, however, and tapped her comm badge as she examined her surroundings.

"Captain to the Doctor. Respond immediately. We have a medical emergency. Captain to the Doctor. Please respond."

Voyager must not have been in range, she thought, as she received no response whatsoever. She'd have to set up some sort of beacon-memories interrupted her train of thought, and her throat tightened. Voyager wasn't responding, she pieced together from the fragments in her mind, because Voyager had crashed. She wasn't in a jungle for fun or pleasure but because Seven of Nine's quick thinking had transported the crew planetside before Voyager's impact. Depending on how much of the system had been destroyed, the comlink might have been severed as well.

Her pleas for help weren't reaching anybody.

She was momentarily flung back to a moment in her childhood when, after playing in a zone she had been restricted from accessing, she'd fallen into a deep hole. Nobody had been nearby to assist her then, either, and she'd spent hours trapped in dirt and darkness with nothing but her fears and pains for company. Anxiety wormed its way into her chest, threatening to overwhelm her, but she squeezed her eyes shut. If a captain panicked, then her crew was lost. She couldn't be human in this moment, she realized. She had to be more.

For several minutes, she remained in place, searching the area around her for anything she could use to stabilize her leg or lean on while she hobbled around. As long as she was doing something, she was getting somewhere, and some progress was light-years better than no progress at all. She located a gnarly branch a bit longer than she was tall, propped the tip against the ground, and dragged herself up and onto her one good foot. The other pulsed with pain to remind her that she was indeed injured.

"Captain?"

She sagged, resting her weight primarily on the branch. "Over here."

The brush to her left rustled, and she twisted to greet her approaching crewman; she'd never been happier to see Lieutenant Tom Paris. There had been a few close encounters over the years where he'd almost forfeited his life to get Voyager back to the Alpha Quadrant, but his returning safely to Voyager didn't quite compare to seeing him emerge from the brush, a tricorder in one hand and a phaser in the other. There were scratches and ashy smudges on his face, and his uniform was shredded in places, but he was mobile and in relatively good spirits, a fact she learned as he hurried to her side with a wide grin on his face.

"Captain, you're okay."

"I've been better," she corrected mildly, "although I must admit you're a sight for sore eyes. Where is the rest of the crew?"

"I don't know. I've been wandering by myself for half a day now. I only found you because I heard you calling for the Doc."

"Half a day." She didn't feel as though she'd been unconscious for that long, but there was no reason for Tom to lie. They were supposed to transport to the same location, however, and her brow furrowed. "Something must have gone wrong."

"There was interference from one of this system's suns. I think, anyway. The sun's flare is what caused the initial damage to Voyager, and I'm guessing energy from the flare got into our processors."

"We'll have time to worry about that later. For now, we need to concentrate on finding the rest of the crew."

He straightened, understanding that he had been given yet another opportunity to thank Janeway for turning his life around. Although he had initially chafed against the yoke of his new responsibilities, he found that there was a certain pride in obeying her commands to the best of his ability.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm not sure how far I can move in my current state," she said, more to herself than Tom. With that in mind, she continued, "We'll need to find somewhere to set up camp. Was your tricorder working?"

"Sort of." He offered the device to her, and she frowned at the garbled readings presented to her. "I think I can get it working, once I can account for the increased solar activity."

"Very good. If you can make those changes, then others might be able to as well. We'll create a beacon. I don't want to send you out in search of others if you can't find your way back, after all."

Tom glanced down at her leg and winced. "I'm not sure if the Doctor made it off the ship before the crash, and my medical training isn't advanced enough-"

"Seven," she interrupted. "Find her. She'll be sufficient until we can get our EMH back online."

He nodded and wiped at some of the dried dirt on his cheeks. "Y'know, this reminds me a lot of when Petty Officer Ferlin dumped me and a few other cadets into the wild during my second year. A real joy to work with, that Ferlin."

"Your point?"

"I can still hear him yelling about setting up camp near a source of water." Tom set his hand on a nearby tree trunk and stared up into the foliage. "Wait here."

He realized he shouldn't be giving his captain orders, but she waved his concerned expression away. Were they on the ship, she might have reprimanded him. In their current situation, however, she was glad for his initiative, as thinking clearly was getting more and more difficult. They needed to set up camp quickly because she felt like she'd entered Chakotay's boxing holoprogram and lost a several round bout with the heavyweight champion. She must have looked pale and weak, she realized, as Tom insisted on helping her settle back against the jungle floor before turning his attention to the nearest tree trunk.

"Wish me luck, Captain."

Before she could do so, he began scaling. His progress was slow, but she watched his boots disappear into the foliage and sighed. Disaster seemed to be a synonym for the Delta Quadrant, but this was nothing they couldn't fix. Once the crew was back together, at least in part, they could find Voyager and initiate repairs. If they could return the comm badges to functionality, then they could locate the missing crew members and continue on their way back to Earth.

She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her forehead. Resting had to wait, she reminded herself. She had to keep it together just a bit longer. Swallowing hard, she pushed the pain down and stared intently at the tree.

By the time Tom descended, she had passed out, and he gingerly lifted her up, slinging her arm around his shoulder. She was lighter than he expected, but the captain was notorious for skipping meals in times of stress. Although he'd prefer she was healthier, he was glad he could lug her along without too much trouble.

He'd spotted what looked like a river in the distance and so headed in that direction. Going was arduous, as he didn't want to risk injuring her further, and the ground was uneven and covered in obstacles in the form of fallen branches and thick foliage. While he straggled along, he let his mind wander.

Before the crash, he had been relaxing with B'Elanna in his quarters-for the first time in nearly three weeks, they'd had free time that coincided, and they were determined not to waste a moment. The captain expected them both back at their posts in an hour to begin a routine mining expedition, but at that moment, they were about to enjoy the finest fondue the replicator could offer. When the rumbling of the ship beneath them had interrupted, B'Elanna had sprinted immediately for engineering, and he'd gone on his way to the bridge. Moments later, the ship had seemingly flipped upside down, and he remembered wondering if something had gone wrong with the ship's internal gravitational field just before he slammed his head against something or another in the bulkhead.

He woke up on this strange planet, which thankfully had breathable oxygen. If they'd landed on the same planet Janeway had wanted to mine, they were in luck; the class M planet would sustain them for the foreseeable future, and because it lacked developed lifeforms, there was no real threat to defend against. Less to worry about, he mused, which left him plenty of time to consider his girlfriend. Although B'Elanna couldn't have been far from him on the ship, she hadn't ended up anywhere near him planetside-at least that's what he figured, since she hadn't responded to his yelling once he regained consciousness.

Once he reached what looked to be a safe, relatively flat area of jungle, he decided to take a break. After forty minutes of straining, he was hot, sweaty, and tired, so he lowered Janeway down and leaned against the nearest tree to catch his breath. As much as he liked complaining about Neelix's culinary offerings, he had to admit that he would have killed in that moment for a sip of even the most disgusting of Neelix's beverages. His tongue darted out and stuck to his dry lips, leading him to grimace.

"Tom?"

Snapped from his reverie by Janeway's rasping plea, he eased off the tree and squatted by her side. Despite calling his name, she had yet to open her eyes. Indeed, most of her face was screwed up; a glance at her wounded leg reminded him that she must be in terrible pain.

"I'm here, Captain."

"Have you found anything else? Anyone else?"

He hated disappointing her, especially after all the faith she continuously put in him, but he couldn't lie: "No, ma'am. By my estimate, we're another half an hour away from the river I spotted from the trees, and in the time we've been walking, I haven't seen any evidence of other survivors. No natives, either."

Janeway pressed a hand to her forehead and rubbed the tips of her fingers against her temples. Doing so didn't help her mind work any better or faster, but she couldn't simply do nothing about the pain thudding there. "As I recall, we were nearing an M-class planet that contained high levels of beryllium. The planet was uninhabited-if that's where we ended up, I'm not surprised you haven't seen any signs of humanoid life."

"I did spot some sort of animal about ten minutes ago, but it was like nothing I'd ever seen before."

The conversation was pointless, Janeway recognized, but talking about something was distracting her from their real problems. "I suppose the reason nobody had mined this planet clean is the same occurrence that brought Voyager down."

"Captain?"

"Solar interference but stronger than anything we've encountered before." Janeway thought about the half an hour walk that still lay before them and shuddered. Still, she couldn't complain, and she couldn't ask Tom to do all the work for her. She gingerly stood up and grabbed the stick Tom offered her. Using that instead of her damaged leg, she hobbled in the direction Tom pointed.

"What happened to Voyager?"

"I presume it crashed somewhere, although I hope damage is minimal and easily fixed, so we can get back on our way. We've spent enough time in the Delta Quadrant, don't you think?"

He kept his hand a few inches from Janeway's lower back, ready to steady her should she stumble. "We'll get back home eventually. You'll get us there."

There were definitely times when Janeway wasn't as sure as Tom sounded. She clung to her stick and fought off a nearly crippling wave of pain. She could make this walk, she coached herself. She just had to keep her balance and keep moving; if she stopped, she wasn't sure when she'd start again, and reaching the river was imperative.

Trying to mine the beryllium had been a poor decision, she realized. They weren't in dire need of the substance, as they could have managed without, but she was so tempted by thoughts of trading more easily for fuel or supplies. Tuvok had warned her about how illogical approaching the planet was, given the extreme conditions caused by this system's suns, but she had persisted, thinking that her ingenuity and the crew's passion would pull them through yet another close encounter unscathed.

She rolled her eyes as she realized that she was Icarus, after a fashion, and she'd flown Voyager too close to the sun. Rather than harangue herself for mistakes already made, she pressed onward. There would be time aplenty for doubt and self-loathing later, but she and Tom needed to reach a source of water where they could set up camp and begin to collect crewmen and supplies.

"Did you ever go camping when you were a young man?"

Tom dodged a low-hanging branch and swatted at some form of insect. "My father wasn't around a lot when I was younger, and my mom was too busy."

"You weren't a Federation Scout?"

"For about two weeks when I was six or seven. I think Ma thought Dad would be proud, but..." Tom hesitated and cleared his throat. "He didn't show up for my first badge ceremony. I quit after that."

"What badge were you set to receive?"

"The sailing badge, for helping my troop sail around the lake near my home."

"Did your father ever explain why he didn't come?"

"I never gave him the chance. Believe it or not, I was a pretty sensitive kid."

Janeway laughed and then winced at a twinge racing up her leg. "What's your estimate? How far are we?"

"Another ten minutes. Do you need me to carry you?"

"No, I'm fine," Janeway lied. She wanted desperately to remove the pressure from her lower body, but she tried to convince herself that she was invincible, at least for the next quarter of an hour. Talking did help, so she said, "Your father is a stern man, Tom, but I do know he's proud of you. He may never say as much out loud, but I saw it in his eyes-"

"That was before I ended up detained." Tom snorted and shook his head. "His precious son threatened his more-precious career. How must that have looked? Decorated admiral with a criminal for a son."

"I never had children, but I assume the love you feel toward your offspring isn't something that goes away because of a mistake."

"Maybe not one mistake, but a couple here and a couple there? It adds up."

"Just you wait. We'll get back to the Alpha Quadrant, and you'll see for yourself."

Although this topic was grating, Tom nodded stiffly, understanding that the captain was talking not to make a point but to keep herself going. He'd resorted to the same in times of great stress-if he hadn't, he thought, he might never have found out that B'Elanna cared so deeply for him. Thinking of her reminded him yet again that he hadn't found her. She was out there somewhere, and he hoped she was unhurt.

Harry was missing, too, and Neelix and Chakotay and everyone else. Pure luck had led him to his captain, but they'd need more than random chance to bring the essential members of Voyager's crew back together.

Before he could entrench himself in his worries, he heard the rushing of water, which alerted him to the fact that they were almost at their goal. Taking Janeway's elbow, he hurried her along. When she stumbled, he picked her up once more and ignored her complaints as he carried her to the river bank. Settling her on the ground near the water, he gripped the hem of her slacks and tore the fabric as best he could.

"What are you doing?"

"If we soak your leg, the swelling will go down," he reasoned. "You can't do anything right now, so you relax and tell me what to do."

He had a point, she thought, so she waved him on. Once her pants were stripped away from the damaged leg, he checked for open wounds. Because he had no working tricorder to test the cleanliness of the water, he wanted to take as few risks as he could. Her leg was injured internally, but there was no blood, scrapes, or cuts. He helped her ease the limb into the chilly moving waters and told her to holler if she needed anything.

A few feet away, he set his tricorder on the ground and wished he had proper tools with which to work. He had to make this function, regardless of the circumstances and what he did or didn't have available to him. He pried the outer casing off and stared at the circuitry. Please, he thought, let this work.

The cold water was extremely refreshing. Janeway couldn't contain the small sighs that escaped past her defenses. With her leg in the water, she felt halfway human again. She didn't quite dare move just yet, but she could think more clearly and her mind wasn't consumed by her pain. She hadn't been hopeless before, but being optimistic was suddenly that much easier.

"Update?"

"I think I've almost got it set up as a beacon. I can't do much to recalibrate the sensors because I don't have my tools."

"That's fine. A beacon is just fine." She twisted to watch him work. "We just have to hope the others can find it."

"If they try to use their tricorders, they'll receive an emergency signal, followed by a series of tones. The beeping will get louder the closer they get to our position. With any luck, they'll find us over the next few hours."

"Good job, Mr. Paris." She smiled at him. "You may not think your father's proud of you, but you ought to know that I am."

He grinned back. "I knew that much, Captain."

"Think you can figure out a way to boil some of this water? I know you're thirsty because I feel dehydrated, and you did most of the work."

"I'll do my best."

"That's all I can ask." Exhaustion catching up with her, she struggled to stay upright and awake. When he noticed her sagging, he paused at his task long enough to help lower her to the ground. Over her protests, he insisted she sleep.

"And hey, by the time you wake up, I'll bet we have more crew members here."

"You make a persuasive argument. Wake me if you run into any problems."

He saluted, and she shut her eyes. He activated the beacon and inspected the trees around them. The tree nearest the water was the tallest; he bit down on the tricorder and climbed his second tree of the day. He hadn't done this much climbing since he was a child, he reflected, and the exertion stressed muscles he hadn't thought about in years. Still, he reached the top and secured the beacon with little difficulty. Getting back down, however, was another issue. He dropped as slowly as he could manage but still fell the final six feet and landed with a dull thud and a soft groan.

As he sat up, he spotted a flash of light from the distance, which prompted him back to his feet. That could have been B'Elanna, he thought with a glance at the captain. He shouldn't run off while Janeway was asleep-but B'Elanna might need his help. He hedged a moment longer before hurrying off toward the light, certain that the captain would understand and support his tracking down of the crew on his own.

Three miles in the opposite direction, Seven of Nine paused, halting the small group of survivors she'd rounded up. Her sensors were unaffected by the crash, and the solar activity was easy to compensate for, which allowed her to track down the life signs of other Voyager crewmen. They were relatively uninjured, but that didn't stop most from complaining about conditions. Their whining accomplished nothing-other than to grate on her nerves. Still, Captain Janeway had told her time and again that she had to be more patient with the emotional aspects of humanity, so she bit her tongue and allowed the nonsense to fill the air.

Thoughts of the captain roused a number of confusing emotions. She didn't understand her physiological responses to the mere memory of Janeway's coy smirk-the way her heart rate doubled and the contents of her stomach churned were completely new reactions. Although she'd observed similar symptoms in Tom and B'Elanna, she couldn't comprehend the implications. She was no longer Borg, but she wasn't capable of the full range of human emotions and reactions. She was fond of Captain Janeway, but she didn't think herself able to feel for anyone the way Tom did for B'Elanna, or vice versa.

Anyway, this was hardly the time for idle speculation. Her sensors were picking up an unusual beeping that hadn't been present just moments before. She tuned out the nervous muttering of those around her and interpreted the first set of beeps as standard emergency code. Once she knew that, the rest of the beeps became an obvious homing beacon.

Without a word to her companions, she tilted her head to and fro to better allow her cortical implant to hone in on the source of the beacon and set off in the correct direction. If her companions were intelligent, they would follow her-and, according to the grousing and griping behind her, that was precisely what they did. Humans and Borg were not so different, she considered. Both required direction and leadership to function, but the humans were so sloppy and disorganized.

At the same time, she'd come to value human individuality more so than she did Borg efficiency. One came at the direct cost of the other, but she supposed she was a perfect balance between the two ideals. Enough of her humanity had asserted herself that she could think for herself, but she was still able to maintain efficiency under the most distressing of circumstances.

"Where are we going?"

"I think she's leading us into trouble."

"Why are we following her? We're not getting anywhere."

She turned abruptly to face her accusers, but none of the people behind her would meet her gaze. Janeway would want her to bring them all, she realized, so she had to convince them that she was right and they were wrong. This would be simpler if they were creatures of logic rather than emotion-if they were a group of Vulcans, then there would be no need for fuss.

"We are moving in the direction of a distress signal. You will accompany me."

"Distress signal?" One of the men in a yellow shirt finally brought his gaze to hers. She recognized him instantly as Ensign Tenou, a human assigned to the lower decks. His personnel records indicated he was a reasonably hard worker by Starfleet standards, which meant, she thought with a touch of haughtiness, that he would likely not meet her personal expectations. "Do you think it's the captain's?"

"There was no indication." Satisfied that they were in agreement, she turned to keep walking and stopped only when she didn't hear footsteps behind her. She spun on her heel and glared at her charges. "You will accompany me."

"What if it's not Captain Janeway?"

"This could be a trap."

"I am in charge." She tilted her head up and straightened her posture as stiffly as she could. Her heels helped add to her intimidating height, and she wanted to convey the same power and authority that Janeway did-and the slighter woman didn't need superior height or muscles to do so. "We will all move together and seek out the source of the signal."

"I say we keep heading for Voyager."

"We don't know where Voyager is."

"You said yourself that you had a pretty good idea-"

"Our primary objective is to find Captain Janeway and carry out her orders. Until then, you will obey me."

"We can't trust her."

Seven gritted her teeth. If they truly wished to scatter to the winds, she wouldn't stop them. She tried once more. "Think logically. Whoever set up that beacon is calling together all crewmen, which is likely at the captain's behest. I am heading in that direction, and I am capable of keeping you safe from whatever dangers this planet may present."

There was a moment of silence, during which she set off again in the direction of the beacon. Relief flooded her at the sound of disgruntled voices following close behind. She wouldn't stoop to begging them to come with, but now she wouldn't show up empty-handed. Janeway would be proud of her-she halted her thought process before she could lose herself too entirely in a world of improbability.

Instead, she began examining her surroundings with increased attention to detail. The animals were unfamiliar, and they approached with little fear in their eyes. Should they need to hunt to survive, these creatures would make easy prey. There were plants around as well that would provide adequate nutrition. According to the sound of rushing liquid, there was likely water as well, to prevent dehydration.

"Can we stop? Just for a moment?"

A hand landed on her arm, and she glared at the offending appendage. "There will be time for rest later."

"Please." The young woman, Crewman White, clung to her, searched her gaze, and then retracted her hand. "My arm was injured. I'm in pain, and I need a break."

"I fail to see how an injury to your arm would incapacitate your ability to walk."

"We're all tired."

Seven surveyed her motley crew and noted their drawn features and sagging shoulders. While they should keep moving, she relented, if only to avoid a mutiny. "Fifteen minutes. Do not wander far."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome." She stood in place with her hands linked behind her back and watched nearly every humanoid before her collapse to the ground. She shouldn't judge them harshly. They were human and inferior by nature. She couldn't expect them to perform at optimum efficiency, and she had to maintain a modicum of patience.

Patience, however, was fleeting. She counted out exactly fifteen minutes and urged them to stand and march once more. Amidst the groaning, she heard one voice condemning the overall dismal attitude and urging optimism. She took heart, knowing that someone supported her decisions. Although the regard the others had for her was irrelevant, a small, human part of her enjoyed being accepted.

At the edge of the river, she lifted a hand to halt her group. Across the way, she spotted red-clothed shoulders and a halo of splayed red hair. Her throat constricted, a reaction she commonly associated with the weakness known as fear. Usually, she was only afraid of being alone; now, however, she realized she was afraid of not having Captain Janeway. The revelation was almost as frightening as the loss of her captain, but she didn't waste time pondering the abstract; she waded through the water, ignored the cries of her companions, and stood over Captain Janeway, dripping and stressed.

She bent to one knee and pressed her fingers to Janeway's neck. Seconds passed, and she barely breathed until she felt Janeway's pulse beating strongly against her fingertips. Confused as to why Janeway's leg was dangling in the water, Seven gripped Janeway's shirt and dragged the shorter woman farther from the river and completely onto dry land. Janeway's eyes fluttered open.

"Lt. Paris?"

"He is not present at this time."

Focusing her vision, Janeway took in the ruffled blonde curls and sharp blue eyes overhead and breathed out Seven's name like a prayer. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn that Seven's cheeks colored for a moment.

"My leg, Seven. It's injured, if you could take a look."

"I will comply."

Janeway closed her eyes once more as Seven's fingers trailed along her shin. For a number of years now, the younger woman evoked elicit thoughts and reactions, none of which were proper, especially given her rank, age, and status. Still, with the amount of pain she was experiencing, she allowed herself that small pleasure as compensation. When she was well again, she could curb her responses appropriately.

When Seven's delicate fingers probed her leg, she couldn't help but yelp. At Seven's curious look, she explained, "You found the injury, I presume."

"Have any medical supplies been located?"

"No. Lt. Paris found me several miles southwest of this location, and we found little of use between there and here… No crewmen, supplies, or information."

"I have collected several crewmen. You will find them all in excellent condition for the circumstances."

"Good. I'm glad you kept them safe."

"Thank you, Captain." Seven completed her perfunctory examination and shook her head. "Until we have a tricorder and supplies, there is little I can do. I have assimilated medical knowledge, and I can make you more comfortable until such time, but I cannot fix you."

"I'll take whatever you can give me, especially if you can make me mobile again."

"Remaining inert will be best."

"I'm not sure that will be a possibility. We have to locate Voyager and begin repairs."

"You will be kept informed, but you will remain inert."

"I cannot comply," Janeway replied, a smirk sneaking onto her lips. A twinge of pain removed any joy from her expression, and her hands curled into fists. "For now, I'll have to settle for doing what you say, as long as you can conjure up something to ease the pain."

"I have analyzed several of the plants on this planet. There are several species that will likely have the effect of a mild anaesthetic."

"I'll take it. Analyze the river while you're at it, and see if the water's clean."

Seven left Janeway's leg and hesitantly placed her fingertips under Janeway's chin. Janeway met her searching gaze, but before Janeway could ask for clarification, Seven dropped her hand away and hurried into the nearby foliage. She was so close to realizing her worst fear, she thought. She had to do everything in her power to make sure that fear remained in the abstract.

By the river, Janeway eased upright and answered the questions of her crew as best she could-yes, they were stuck on the planet for the time being, and no, she didn't know how long. Seven had rounded up a gaggle of confused ensigns, and while she recognized them all by face and name, none were the crewmen she most wanted to see. In particular, Chakotay was still missing-

Tom was gone, too, she noted. Seven had mentioned he wasn't present, which made her wonder how long she'd been asleep and where he'd wandered off to. He ought to have known better than to have adventured far, but he was impulsive to a fault, and the chance remained that he'd gone off to play the hero as was his wont.

He'd be back, she hoped, and he might bring others with him. For the time being, she wouldn't worry about him-there were, after all, more pressing concerns to devote her energy to. The crew that was present needed reassurance and hope, so she smiled through her agony.

"We're gathering here, and then we'll head toward Voyager as a group at 0900 hours tomorrow morning. Until then, I recommend you rest and try to relax. If you're in any pain, you'll report your concerns to Seven of Nine when she returns."

According to the information gathered prior to the crash, this planet was Pylos-uninhabited but within the Wonitian territory. There was a chance the Wonitians would come to their aid, but there was not enough in the database to inform her of what their intentions might be. As they were, she and her crew were vulnerable to attack, and she disliked the idea that she couldn't protect everyone should the need arise. Rather than wait for rescue, they needed to reach Voyager.

Seven approached once more with a pile of emerald leaves in her Borg hand. She offered one to Janeway, who accepted and stared at the foreign vegetation with a cocked eyebrow. As Seven distributed the remaining leaves to any who complained of aches and pains, Janeway lifted the leaf to her nose, sniffed, and recoiled.

"Chew on this," Seven instructed. "The pain will recede."

Janeway eyed the leaf with fresh distaste. If she chewed on this, a foul taste would likely fill her mouth, and she'd be stuck with that after-effect for who knew how long. Additionally, the leaf would give her foul breath. She glanced furtively at Seven and shook her head-she wasn't going to be kissing anyone any time soon, so the state of her breath was irrelevant. Seeing no other immediate option, she set the leaf on her tongue, winced at the acrid taste, and chewed.

While the leaf smelled putrid, the taste was remarkably bland. Janeway's lips quirked down as her eyebrows crept up her forehead. "Not bad."

"The taste is irrelevant."

"Oh, I know." Janeway winked as she chewed. "Still, a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down."

"Explain."

"Another time, Seven. Any sign of where Tom went?"

"None."

Seven took a moment to collect water from the river, which she then helped Janeway to drink. Janeway preened under Seven's sharp gaze and gentle touch; the intensity with which Seven examined her was both dissecting and flattering. Although Seven wasn't able to verbally express her concern very well, her emotions bled through her gaze, and Janeway had learned to interpret the signs.

"I'm doing much better. Thank you, Seven."

"Of course."

"Would help me stand up?" Sensing that Seven wasn't going to comply, Janeway added, "I'm going to get back on my feet, with or without your assistance."

"That is ill-advised." Seven extended her hands and lifted Janeway up. Even after Janeway was standing, she remained close by, intent on saving Janeway from a nasty tumble. Rather than look like she cared, however, she pretended to examine the position of one of Pylos's suns.

Janeway knew better than to over-stress her leg. She leaned lightly against Seven, who guided her toward the gathered crewmen. "We need to build a fire. We don't know how cold temperatures get during the night, and I don't want to take any chances. If you find anything edible, bring it to camp. We won't be here long, but we need to be prepared to survive."

As most of the small crew dispersed, Janeway sighed. The leaf was doing its job, but they needed the Doctor to treat their wounds more effectively. Hell, Janeway thought, she'd accept minimal medical supplies, as Seven could likely upgrade and use even the most rudimentary technology beyond its initial purpose. Her leg could wait, but she didn't like seeing various crew members with damaged bodies and spirits.

"Captain?"

"Yes, Seven?"

"I am concerned about your leg."

"I'll be fine."

"You cannot ignore your physical needs-"

"I can, and I will. They need me."

Seven hesitated. "I need you, as well, and you cannot function perfectly in your current state."

Janeway turned her face, so Seven couldn't see the coloring of her cheeks. She'd imagined Seven saying the former part of her statement a number of times but in a vastly different context. Most commonly, she'd fantasized about Seven nude and sprawled on her bed, eyes half-closed and voice raspy with desire. _I need you_ , she'd say, and Janeway would gladly comply.

"Captain?"

"Hm?"

"I asked what you need me to do."

"My apologies, Seven. I was distracted."

"Well?"

"Your cortical implants are still functioning, correct? Can you see if you can locate Lt. Paris? He couldn't have gotten far."

"I will return shortly."

Seven stalked into the foliage, glad to have a moment to think. She couldn't yet make heads or tails of the physiological changes in the captain, but she could analyze more easily with only the sounds of nature around her. Had the changes been precipitated by something she said? Possible but improbable. She had said nothing evocative. Something else must have transpired beyond her awareness. Her palms felt a bit clammy as she realized that she wished she were the cause of the captain's changes.

During conversations with Tom, she'd learned that romantic relationships were a source of comfort, and in times of stress or adversity, a partner could be relied on for support. Janeway already provided her support and comfort, but Seven understood that there was more to romance-after all, Tom and B'Elanna were definitely involved, while she and Janeway were not.

Tom also constantly touched B'Elanna. Similarly, Janeway used every excuse to touch her, but she got the feeling that this still wasn't quite the same. She'd seen them kissing, and she'd created Holodeck characters with whom she could experience the practice. She wasn't bold enough to recreate Janeway, especially because others might view her records or activate the program themselves. Despite how intimate kissing was, she found she preferred the comforting warmth of Janeway's hand on the crook of her arm.

Romance was confusing, and the use of her time to process such was inefficient.

She scanned the surrounding area but found no recent traces of Tom Paris. Using some of the tracking skills Commander Chakotay had endeavored to teach her, she examined the nearby brush and determined that Paris was headed north, although toward what he was going, she wasn't sure. Her orders were to locate him, but she didn't want to leave Janeway for too long, so she retreated to the river once more.

Spotting a man standing over her captain caused a jolt of alarm, but further inspection revealed the newcomer's identity. She relaxed and tilted her head in greeting; Chakotay nodded back but didn't break off his conversation with Janeway until Seven was at their side, hands locked behind her back as she patiently waited to deliver her report.

"Did you find Lt. Paris?"

"I found evidence that he journeyed north of our current location. However, as he was too far away, I chose to return rather than pursue."

"Good idea." Janeway smiled, and the innocuous expression made Seven feel strangely. She tightened her jaw to reassert control over her faculties and responses. "We're scattered enough already, and we need your expertise here."

Chakotay stood hands akimbo. "The captain is out of commission for now, so I'm temporarily in command. I have a small group out right now collecting firewood and supplies, and another group looking for traces of others and Voyager."

"What is required of me?" Seven tensed, wanting immensely to tend to the captain but understanding that other matters might require her more immediate attention.

"You'll be working with Captain Janeway on modifying a tricorder to account for the solar activity currently making everything fritz out."

"I will comply." She nodded curtly at Chakotay and focused on Janeway. "Where would you like to begin?"

Janeway held up a gray toolbox. "One of our quicker thinking ensigns grabbed this before we beamed planetside. We should have everything we need inside."

"Very well. How can I assist you?"

"To be honest, thinking is a bit hard with the pain coming back."

"Do we have access to any medical supplies yet?"

"Unfortunately nobody thought to grab anything of the sort."

"Several crewmen have injuries as well. Finding appropriate treatment methods should be a priority."

"If we can get this tricorder working, then we can modify it to do just that."

Seven tentatively took Janeway's arm; the connection made her feel more secure, and she gladly led her captain to a nearby fallen log. She helped Janeway sit down comfortably and knelt in front.

"Thank you, Seven."

"Of course, Captain."

Janeway gazed at Seven's blank mien and wondered what exactly went on beneath the surface. At the beginning of their interaction all those years ago, she would have doubted there was much beyond what Seven said. However, Seven had grown beyond her expectations, and she knew there was something hidden under that implacable mask.

"Seven, you'd tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?"

"Of course, Captain."

"It just seems to me that there's something on your mind." Although Seven's expression didn't falter, Janeway knew she wasn't wrong. "I can't force you to talk to me, but I'd hope you know that you can trust me."

"There is nothing that requires your attention." Seven's eyes flicked to the tricorder. "Perhaps we could begin."

"Perhaps we could," Janeway allowed. She watched patiently as Seven pried the casing off the tricorder and popped the toolkit open. Seven selected a tuner, which she then used to tweak internal sensors on the device. "I suppose you don't need my help at all, but Chakotay knows how much I like to feel like I'm doing something to help."

"You are helping," Seven replied.

"Oh?"

"You supplied me with the necessary tools."

"Anyone could have done that."

"I suppose." Seven twisted the end of the tuner, tightening the beam, and continued working. "Would you prefer to handle the tool?"

Janeway watched Seven's fingers nimbly performing their function and thought, just for a moment, about what else those fingers might be capable of. Her cheeks heated, attracting Seven's sharp gaze.

"Captain?"

"No, you're fine." Janeway cleared her throat and averted her gaze to something much less stimulating: Chakotay moved between the returning groups and sorted through whatever had been brought back. He was a fine first officer, and she was more than happy to hand the reigns over to him until she could think more clearly.

"Your body responded to something," Seven pressed. "Can I do anything to help? Are you experiencing discomfort?"

"My leg," Janeway lied; although her leg was indeed stiff and uncomfortable, that was hardly the reason for the sudden spike in her body's reaction. "Finish updating the tricorder. That's all there is to it."

"Yes, Captain."

Janeway settled back, her palms pressing into the firm wood of the tree upon which she sat. This world was nothing like Earth, but she knew they'd be able to survive there for at least a short period of time-long enough to repair Voyager anyway. Once they were back in space, and she was fighting fit again, she wouldn't have time to while away the hours thinking about Seven of Nine and those delightfully lithe fingers.

She cut that thought off again, determined not to alert the ex-Borg to her wandering fantasies yet again. There were many things the captain preferred to keep to herself, and this childish crush was one of them. Certainly, she didn't need distractions. They had scanned the planet hours before the crash, but a preliminary scan wasn't enough to convince her that there were no dangers here. While there were no sentient beings around, that didn't mean the flora and fauna would be kind to them. The night was dark, she thought, and full of terrors.

"Is anyone starting a fire?"

"I believe Chakotay has set B'Elanna to that task."

"Good. We don't know when it gets dark here."

"Captain, I have been observing the changes in sunlight." Seven paused, glancing up to update her information. "There has been no change in brightness, despite the position of the suns changing. Based on this, I have extrapolated that this planet does not experience what we would term night."

"That certainly presents its own problems. We'll need to get everyone on a sleeping schedule of some sort."

"I will inform the commander once our task is accomplished."

"I can do that, too. I'm injured, Seven, not dead."

Seven's jaw tightened at the thought. She would not allow such a thing to occur, she decided, even if preventing such came at the price of her own personal well being. "Noted, Captain."

"How's that tricorder coming?"

"I require another five minutes."

"Good, good." Janeway kept her gaze averted-doing so was very effective in keeping calm. Still, she couldn't control the wanderings of her mind, which inevitably returned to the tall, slender blonde working at her feet. "How are you doing?"

"I am functioning."

"Were you injured in the transport?"

"I am hardly incapacitated."

"But there is something wrong?"

Seven finished her work, reassembled the tricorder, and placed the device in Janeway's waiting hands. "I suffered slight bruising and a small abrasion."

Janeway finally looked at her companion once more and took note of the dark, dried blood by Seven's hairline. She hadn't noticed that before, she chided herself. She ought to have paid closer attention. To make amends, she tore a bit of her uniform off and instructed Seven to dampen the cloth in the river. When Seven returned, she dabbed the scrap of fabric on Seven's cut as gently as she could while still cleaning the wound.

"This is…" Seven trailed off. She was about to say unnecessary, but she was afraid that the captain would stop. While she didn't require the service, she was pleased by the thoughtful contact and would gladly overlook the inefficiency again if offered the chance.

"Yes?" Janeway's voice was husky as she soaked in their proximity. Being this close to Seven was destroying what little self-control she was maintaining through the pain of her leg. They were close enough to kiss, Janeway thought; her throat tightened, and her mouth felt sandpaper-dry.

"Adequate."

"That's enormous praise, coming from you." Janeway pulled back, desperate for distance before she embarrassed herself. There was nothing about Seven's demeanor that suggested an amorous overture would be welcomed, let alone tolerated.

"Thank you."

"The Doctor's lessons seem to have stuck, hm?"

"Explain."

"Don't get me wrong-you're still you, and I wouldn't want you any other way-but you're you with a smidge of social graces. You used to say thank you like the words were too big for your mouth. Getting along with the crew must be a good deal easier."

"It is," Seven allowed, although she would trade any amount of social interaction with the crew for just a few moments with the captain.

"Do you think you could tweak another tricorder to function as a medical tool?"

"I never studied the schematics of the Doctor's tools, but I will try."

Janeway appreciated the enthusiasm. "Very good, Seven."

Seven examined Janeway's smile and hesitantly allowed the corners of her lips to twitch up in an awkward reflection that was more grimace than smile. Despite the awkwardness, Janeway warmed at the expression.

"Would you bring Lt. Torres over? I'd get her myself, but…"

Seven waited a moment, on the verge of saying something more, and then nodded stiffly; she may not have been a Starfleet officer, but she respected Janeway's authority to a certain extent. As there was nothing more pressing to accomplish other than bringing the surly half-Klingon over, she chose to obey rather than argue-a fact for which Janeway was likely grateful.

B'Elanna, too, was grateful for a reprieve. She'd successfully lit a fire and had then been mobbed by other crewmen looking for answers, comfort, or someone to blame. When Seven approached, the stockily built woman was fending off a science officer's jabbing finger; Seven got the feeling that if she had interrupted mere moments later, a physical fight would have transpired, as B'Elanna wasn't renowned for her patience or her gentle nature.

"Thank you," B'Elanna slung her arm around Seven's shoulders, "because one more second of listening to Browning-"

"Thank the captain."

"Someday, you're going to have to accept praise for your personal accomplishments, Seven."

"My success is the Collective's success."

"Well, yes, but it's also your success, first and foremost."

Unwilling to agree, Seven walked silently and relaxed only when B'Elanna crouched at Janeway's side. Giving them their privacy, she surveyed the camp from a few feet away, hands locked behind her back and her attention scanning everywhere at once. That did include, she realized with some shame, the conversation happening between Janeway and B'Elanna. She shouldn't eavesdrop, but she was too curious about what the captain was doing.

Janeway rubbed her thigh and winced, unaware that Seven had been so expedient in her task. B'Elanna waited patiently as long as she could and then cleared her throat. Janeway's head snapped up, and B'Elanna could have sworn she saw a blush flash momentarily across the captain's cheeks; indeed, Janeway was a bit ashamed that she had let her guard down to the extent that someone could approach without her notice.

"Captain?"

Not allowing her personal feelings to interfere with the task at hand, Janeway said, "I wanted you to know that Tom was here earlier, and he was safe."

B'Elanna's expression remained impassive. "Where is he now?"

Janeway held her flush at bay this time, not quite happy with her inability to keep track of her crew or her ship. She rationally understood that she was only human, but allowing others to see that horrible truth set her ill at ease. She was captain first, person second, and captains weren't supposed to make mistakes like losing consciousness and losing a crew member.

"While he worked on setting up the beacon, I used the opportunity to rest. When I awoke, he was gone."

"If he gets hurt, I'll kill him," the Klingon promised under her breath. She met Janeway's gaze with a terse smile. "I don't suppose you'd let me go look for him?"

"Request denied," Janeway said, not unkindly. "However, if he hasn't returned in six hours, we'll discuss our options. For now, I need you to assist Seven with fixing the tricorders. She can show you how she's working around the solar interference."

B'Elanna snapped a brief salute; Seven thought to turn around, but that would reveal her eavesdropping. Instead, she waited until Janeway called her name before she responded. Janeway gave her an expectant look, which meant she knew that Seven had been listening, and Seven felt her body temperature fluctuate.

"I am more than capable of updating tricorders."

Janeway wasn't sure, but she could have sworn she heard something akin to reproach in Seven's voice. Seven could have accomplished the job efficiently, she admitted, but she wanted Seven to finish up quickly, so they could begin the next task. Once there were more tricorders functioning, she knew Chakotay would start sending crews out to analyze their surroundings, and she'd keep Seven nearby to fiddle with the tricorder's medical capabilities.

On a more personal note, Janeway simply felt more comfortable with her Borg by her side, although she'd be hard pressed to ever say that phrase out loud. 'Her Borg' was a bit too possessive for the relationship she currently had with Seven, despite the fantastical wanderings of her imagination.

"Yes, that's true. However, we need this done quickly, as there are other things that need to be done soon, too."

Seven's implant inched up her forehead as her head dipped in acquiescence. "What can I do?"

"Show Lt. Torres what you did to the first tricorder, and then start trying to upgrade yours to function as a diagnosing tool. The sooner we have a way of finding out what's wrong with the crew, the sooner we can start treating them." Sensing that Seven was going to interject or complain, Janeway lifted a hand. "I know you don't have the proper tools, but we'll make due with what we have."

"Very well." Seven dipped her head once more and settled back down with the scanning device in her lap. She murmured quietly with the chief engineer, who quickly understood how and why Seven had implemented changes.

Janeway resumed rubbing her leg, hoping that a soothing massage would ease some of the discomfort. She no longer thought that anything had broken, but she had definitely done some damage. When they got Voyager up and running again, she'd need to spend a bit of time off her feet. They all needed a break, she thought with a quick glance at her lackluster crew, most of whom milled about aimlessly with their heads down and their shoulders hunched. With a small sigh, she stared back down at her thigh.

She jerked back in surprise as a second set of hands pushed hers out of the way but promptly relaxed as she realized who was behind the assault. Seven's fingers were longer and leaner, but there was more muscle and design behind her movements. Janeway did her best to remain dignified, even as Seven's massage made her want to moan. Her previous efforts had been fine, she thought, but there was something heavenly about what Seven could do.

"I realize you wanted me to upgrade the tricorder," Seven murmured, "however, I thought it more prudent to assist you. Additionally, Lt. Torres understands and is willing to work alone for a short period of time."

"I'm not complaining." Janeway leaned back and braced herself on the trunk. She ought to be, she realized, especially when she glanced at B'Elanna, who smirked back with knowing eyes. Indulging for just a moment, Janeway grimaced and then demurred, "That's enough, Seven. Resume your duties."

Seven released her grip, although all she wanted was to continue rubbing her way along Janeway's thigh. Her fingers were tingling, she noted, and there was a ruddy hue to Janeway's cheeks that suggested that Janeway enjoyed this as well. She wondered if she could convince Janeway to accept further ministrations at a later time.

Her thoughts were jolted back to the present as B'Elanna elbowed her. "What was that about?"

"I'm unsure to what you are referring." Seven tried to focus, uninterested in discussing with others that which she was only beginning to understand herself.

"You can fool a lot of people, but you can't fool me." B'Elanna glanced at the captain, who was stolidly staring elsewhere.

"I suppose you are more nosy than most."

"It's not a matter of being nosy," B'Elanna huffed. "It's a matter of seeing what's in front of me."

"Let us pretend for a moment that your suppositions have merit."

"You don't know what I suppose-"

"Regardless. Do you think the captain would like you speculating about her interactions? Do you think I do?"

B'Elanna rolled her eyes, gleaning from the brief interaction more than she would have if Seven had gruffly blown her off. "I guess not."

"Then help me accomplish the task in a timely manner, preferably without discussing matters that do not concern you."

As thankful as she was that B'Elanna dropped the topic as requested, Seven found that she also wished that she could converse about her confusion with someone. Still, she wasn't sure she trusted the half-Klingon to the extent necessary for a topic such as this. She'd wait, she determined, until she could talk to the Doctor, who would likely provide her even-handed guidance and further social lessons as required.

She just hoped his program was secure, wherever Voyager had ended up.


	2. Not Alone

Thanks Lex!

* * *

2: Not Alone

Logically speaking, there were very few things that proved impossible, given enough ingenuity and effort. Rather, when a situation was dire, Tuvok preferred to think that solutions were improbable, which allowed for a modicum of hope to remain that survival was attainable. With this in mind, he dug his fingers into the rock face and did his best to ignore the rattled prattling of the Talaxian above him. He would reach the ground with his physical well being in tact, he thought grimly, but his calm hold on his emotions might be in tatters.

"This reminds me of a song I heard on Gallinger III, which detailed the adventures of a rather famous adventurer-whose name escapes me, but the people did name a rather tasty dish after him-"

Tuvok understood that rambling out loud was Neelix's defense mechanism, but he couldn't help but wish the golden-haired man had developed something more akin to worried silence as a response to tension and fear. They were much nearer to the base of the mountain than when they started, but there was still at least a mile and a half of treacherous hiking, sometimes on an incline that was nearly vertical, and Tuvok felt his patience slipping.

He took a long, soothing breath and searched for the next secure foothold. Later, provided he safely made the trip to the base, he would find time to meditate to regain control he was losing with every moment Neelix rambled on. For the time being, he had to set his irritation aside as he was responsible not only for his own safety but that of his companion.

"There is a loose rock." He waited patiently for Neelix to follow in his path before descending to a small plateau. The area was barely large enough for the two men to sit, but Tuvok decided a break was in order.

Neelix pressed himself against the mountain and dug a hand into his pockets. A moment later, he offered Tuvok an emergency ration, which Tuvok took gratefully. If Neelix was good for nothing else, he tended to have a form of sustenance on hand, Tuvok noted. Had he known they were to land on a barren mountainside, sliding toward tumbling to their death, he, too, would have thought to suitably prepare a pack. Instead, he had accepted the captain's assurance that the crew would be beamed directly into a safe location on the planet's surface. Had Neelix not ended up with him, he would have gone without nutrients.

"We're far from the bottom." Neelix tugged on his collar and wiped a hand along his forehead. Beads of sweat had collected along the curved ridges of his head and dripped down toward his eyes. Normally, Neelix had a curious squint; now, however, his eyes were nearly shut to keep the stinging sweat from making his vision worse.

"Perhaps," Tuvok allowed, "but we are closer than before."

"Do you suppose they're looking for us?"

Tuvok considered and discarded the notion. "The rest of the crew was likely scattered as we were. There is no 'they' to conduct search and rescue missions."

"The captain's out there." Neelix pawed at his forehead again, but his efforts seemed to generate more sweat than they wiped away. "She'll get the crew together."

That put a good deal of onus on the captain, but Tuvok supposed Neelix had a point. Still, he was never one to simply sit back and await rescue. Until he heard otherwise from a higher ranking officer, he was going to proceed along the most logical path, dragging Neelix with him if he had to. Once they finished their descent, he would guide the Talaxian through the jungle toward Voyager.

At the top of the mountain, he'd been able to see the hull glinting in the fierce, pervasive sunlight. The lower they went, however, the less he was able to see of the massive ship, but he was fairly certain of the direction they'd need to walk through the thick foliage below. He wanted to find Captain Janeway, but he would settle for returning to Voyager. Although he wasn't able to use his comm badge for its intended purpose, he would be able to locate the crew from Voyager's central controls.

"Do you require more rest?"

Neelix chanced a glance up at the sun. "I'd prefer to reach the bottom before nightfall. I don't know about you, Mr. Vulcan, but I'd rather sleep on a flat surface."

The suns hadn't shifted much over the course of several hours, so Tuvok didn't think the concept of nightfall was applicable to their current situation. He did want to finish their climb, though, so he refrained from presenting any evidence that might dissuade his companion's enthusiasm.

Before they could move, however, the mountain rumbled beneath them; Tuvok grabbed Neelix's arm to keep Neelix from toppling down and braced himself as far from the edge as he could manage. Had they not been in a secure location, such as the position they had occupied just prior to their break, they might have died. He tightened his grip, unwilling to be responsible for a crew member's demise.

For three minutes and fourteen seconds, he maintained their balance until the last of the shaking had faded. Even after Tuvok released his grip, Neelix remained pinned to the mountainside, his chest heaving uneasily and his face uncomfortably scrunched.

"What was that?"

"I do not know. We should expedite our journey down, in any event."

"Are you sure it'll be safe?"

"It will certainly be no more dangerous than standing here until our supplies and energy wear out."

Although Neelix responded, Tuvok chose to concentrate his attention solely on the process of climbing. The quake had acted to sharpen his focus, and tuning Neelix out was much easier. The final leg of the climb passed without so much of a flare of his irritation, and he stepped into the jungle with a definite sense of accomplishment. There was of course more to do, but he valued each step on his journey.

His appreciation, however, paled in comparison with Neelix's wholehearted response; the other man flung himself to the ground, pressed a series of dramatic kisses, and came to rest with his arms and legs splayed. Tuvok strove to keep his expression blank, knowing that visible disdain would accomplish nothing.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. "We need to keep moving."

"Aye, aye," Neelix replied, enthusiasm lacing his tone. Having steady ground beneath his feet was more than enough to renew his vigor for the task at hand, and he eagerly marched after Tuvok, who headed deeper into the dense forestation of the jungle.

Nearly three dozen yards parallel, a little girl huddled by a tree trunk, her eyes squeezed shut and her mind stumbling around in circles. Stressed, Naomi ran a finger along the small horns protruding from her forehead, a nervous gesture that her mother had tried to break her of several times over the past few months. Her mother wasn't anywhere nearby, however, and that was both a reason to rub her nubs and want to cry.

If someone else was with her, she'd be okay, she thought. Instead, she was utterly alone, and although the area was fairly well-lit with the sun beating down, she was afraid of the shadows that moved as a slight breeze shifted the position of the branches overhead. This jungle was nothing like Flotter's forest, she determined, but he'd know what to do. Even if he didn't, he'd find a way to make her feel better, just like always; she felt very far away from the holodeck at the moment, and her good feelings were just as distant.

Fingers still moving against her horns, she listened for any sign that someone was coming for her. Any noise could mean Seven or Neelix coming to her rescue, but they could also mean an alien was going to find and kidnap her. Thoughts of Seven made her lower her hand. The Borg wouldn't approve of her behavior, after all. A Borg didn't feel fear and wouldn't give up, even if she were separated from the Collective. The best way to survive this ordeal, Naomi determined, was to be bold and smart, like Seven.

She stood up and curled her hands into fists to steady herself. She could do this, and Seven would tell her later what an adequate job she had done.

At the same moment that Naomi decided to take action, Seven leaned back on her heels and tried not to feel too frustrated by the captain's obstinate refusal to receive assistance. The only way for Janeway's leg to recover was for Janeway to keep off the limb for a few days, at the minimum, yet the older woman was doing everything but relaxing. While Janeway claimed there was no pain currently, Seven was aware that eventually the mild anesthetic she had provided via the plant leaves would fade.

If Janeway insisted on continuing on in this fashion, she would only re-injure the leg. Seven stared at Janeway, wondering if Janeway could feel her consternation even while deep in a conversation with Chakotay. That conversation could have transpired while Janeway was sitting, Seven thought. She shouldn't care so obviously about the captain's well being, as her interest went beyond what was proper, but she was too tired to better conceal her concern.

She had yet to inform Janeway that her pocket regenerator was running low on charge. She was putting off her regeneration as long as she could, hoping to save the device for an emergency, but she was running out of options. While the rest of the crew had bodies that would take care of their own functions, she relied on her implants, which in turn relied on regenerating. Without her alcove or a safe alternative, her body would likely shut down.

She had no decisive evidence to support this supposition other than a brief warning the Doctor had given her shortly after her kidnapping from the Collective, but she had no desire to test whether his fears were justified. Still, should they not reach Voyager soon, she might have to. Until her body became an issue, she saw no reason to worry Janeway unnecessarily, especially given Janeway's predilection for doing everything for her crew at her own expense. While Seven found she would enjoy the attention and care Janeway provided, she had no desire to make the captain's situation worse.

"Seven?"

Seven tore her gaze from the captain's back and turned to face a familiar woman who looked to be on the brink of her own disaster. "Ensign Samantha Wildman."

"Have you seen Naomi?"

"I have not."

"I've been looking." Samantha ran a nervous hand through her hair, her eyes shifting unsteadily from Seven to the ragtag group of people gathering. "She's got to be somewhere."

"We are still missing many members of Voyager's crew, such as Lt. Commander Tuvok. There is a chance Naomi is with one of them."

"She's never been alone like this before-"

"Do not jump to conclusions." Because she wasn't quite adept at social interactions, Seven surprised herself with the comfort she was providing. Her humanity was asserting itself in strange ways, she considered. In that moment, she was glad, however, as her words drew Samantha's gaze back to her. "Worrying will not solve our problems, and there is much to do. The captain will get us back to Voyager, and from there, we will reunite the crew. We will not forget Naomi."

Samantha moved suddenly toward her, and she stiffened as Samantha's arms encircled her shoulders. Aware that this was a hug, Seven tentatively placed a hand near Samantha's back, although she couldn't bring herself to actually touch the other woman. After a moment of letting her hand hover over Samantha's uniform, Seven cleared her throat. Sensing that she was no longer welcome, Samantha drew back and dabbed her eyes.

"Thank you, Seven."

"You are welcome." To be honest, Seven had no idea what she had done that was worthy of gratitude. Rather than argue and prolong the contact, however, she let Ensign Wildman walk away without another word.

"I didn't know you were giving out hugs now." B'Elanna approached, a modified tricorder in her hand. "I'm hurt you didn't offer me one first."

"Have you completed the necessary upgrades?"

"Not everyone thought to grab one or a phaser before we were beamed down here, but I think I found all that did."

Seven watched B'Elanna wipe a bead of sweat from her forehead and tilted her head. She was warm, she noted, but she had yet to perspire-her Borg parts were likely working hard to keep her temperature stable and cool, which meant she'd need to regenerate sooner rather than later. Perhaps B'Elanna could help her, she pondered, as the chief engineer could likely extend or recharge the battery on her portable device.

"Since you have completed that task, I have another."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"My portable regenerator is nearly out of power."

B'Elanna considered the statement for a long, silent second. She had worked with the Doctor on Seven's implant problem and had a fairly good idea of what might occur should Seven's systems shut down. With so few resources at their disposal, however, she wasn't sure what they could manage. To build the regenerator in the first place had required the dissembling of an alcove.

"Does the captain know about this?"

"She has other matters to which she must attend." Seven locked her hands behind her back and tilted her chin up. "If you are incapable of helping me, I will work alone-"

"I didn't say I was incapable." B'Elanna grimaced. "Just know that if we get this working, it'll be a miracle."

Seven loathed that her future was so tenuous, but she had come through more troubling ordeals before. "I believe we can complete this."

"I'll try not to let you down." B'Elanna set a hand on her shoulder. "So, where's the portable device?"

While both women wandered off together, Janeway nodded slowly as Chakotay informed her of what his scouts had discovered. Voyager was approximately ten miles north, near the base of a mountain, or so they estimated. Although the scouts hadn't reached Voyager, they'd spotted what could only be the ship's hull in the distance from the top of a tree; Janeway wondered if that wasn't what Tom had spotted as well. The young man had yet to return, but Janeway didn't have time to worry about his safety.

"We're about ready to start moving, but I wish more of the crew had found their way here."

Chakotay observed the fifty or so people gathered around them with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "It's a start. Besides, when has any trip to a planet ever gone smoothly? You wouldn't know what to do if everyone was here."

She snorted. "I suppose not."

"We have enough to get moving, and that will have to suffice. The rest we can pick up later from Voyager."

"Ten miles is quite a hike."

He glanced down at her leg before asking, "Are you sure you don't want-"

"I don't need help," she interrupted, her voice hardening.

Pausing, he glanced up at the clouds, seemingly deep in thought. "We'll need someone to stay here."

Her eyebrow inched up her forehead. "Oh?"

"If we leave Tom's device in the tree, other crew members may still show up. If we leave someone here to get them organized, we can either meet up later at Voyager, or we can beam the group up to Voyager later."

"And I suppose you think I should be the one to stay?"

"I think either you or I would be ideal candidates. Tuvok would as well, but he's not here, yet. You've already delegated command to me for the time being, so it makes sense that I would make the trip to Voyager, while you remained here to round up the remaining crewmen."

Janeway understood his logic, but she still felt fairly rankled by his attempt to keep her off her leg. She had to admit that the prospect of a ten-mile hike was unappealing, given the flashes of pain that continued to afflict her, but Voyager was her ship, and these people were her responsibility.

"I could make the walk-"

"Yes, you could," he agreed. "However, you could also wait here."

Had this accident occurred within the first year of their journey through the Delta Quadrant, Janeway might have continued arguing; however, the events of recent years had taught her one difficult lesson: she had to pick her battles. This was clearly something he'd already made his mind up about, and he was right. As much as staying behind irritated her, she would comply.

"Fine."

"We'll leave you with supplies and one of the working tricorders."

"Are phasers working?"

"As far as we know, but Lt. Andrews tested his weapon and reported that the beam was stronger than the phaser's setting, so keep that in mind."

Janeway nodded, logging the information away for later in case she needed to protect herself. Thus far there was nothing that threatened her crew or her, but she wanted to take as few chances as possible.

"Very well." She maintained a grouchy expression, her lips twitching down at the corners and her eyes humorless, simply to make sure he knew she was displeased with this decision, despite her acquiescence.

"You'll be back on Voyager before you know it," he replied, grinning to spite her dark mood. "The Doctor will get you back on your feet, and you'll be running the ship again before long."

Until then, however, she was stuck on the bank of this alien river. She limped back to her fallen tree and gently toppled back onto the trunk. From her vantage point, she could watch Chakotay informing the crew of the slight change in their plans. More than one shot her a pitying look, which sent a spark of outrage through her. She was not a creature to be pitied, even with an injury.

Before she could hoist herself back to her feet and terrorize the few men and women who dared look at her as less than fully capable, B'Elanna strode over, her arms folded over her chest and her expression grim. "We have another problem."

Well, Janeway thought, that seemed to be par for the course. She had been mustering energy to stand and instead chose to relax against her seat. "Go on."

"Seven is working on extending the charge of her portable regenerator, but it's not looking good."

"All the more reason to return to Voyager as soon as possible."

"She won't admit it, but a ten-mile hike is too much right now. If she tries, her implants will shut down, and there's a strong possibility that she'll die."

Janeway glanced beyond B'Elanna and eyed Seven, who remained bent over with a tool in one hand and the regenerator in the other. "Why wasn't I notified earlier?"

"She didn't want you to worry."

"What do you suggest?"

"If we can hike back to Voyager quickly enough, we can beam her straight into an alcove. She could remain here with you, which would waste much less of her energy."

"Has she agreed to this?"

"I told her she could keep working on her regenerator, and if she can get it working, she's more than welcome to catch up to us." B'Elanna bit down on the derisive snort trying to work its way past her defenses. The chances that Seven would recharge the device without proper supplies were very low; still, she couldn't fault the Borg for trying.

"Leave the tools with her, as well as a tricorder and a phaser."

"Yes, Captain." B'Elanna was tempted to make a comment about Janeway and Seven left alone together, but she realized that joking with Seven was one thing; implying something inappropriate to the captain was a completely different matter, one that she should leave well enough alone. "I'll report your decision to the commander."

While B'Elanna marched off to do just that, Janeway let her gaze slide over to Seven's hunched shoulders. She couldn't complain about spending time with the blonde, although she had to admit the circumstances could be better. At some point, she'd like to get to know Seven without dire consequences looming overhead.

A good day's travel ahead of the main crew, Tom shrugged out of his outer uniform, finally unable to take the heat. His gray undershirt had dark circles under his arms and splattering down his chest and back, and he was certain that his stench was detectable from a great distance. Even if he found B'Elanna, he considered, he wasn't sure she'd welcome him with open arms. She'd probably dump him in the nearest body of water with a helping of soap and the order to not return until he reeked a bit less.

He liked that about her-no matter what, she followed through. Unlike some of the other crewmembers, she was willing to say and do exactly what she thought, although a few years under Janeway's command had tempered B'Elanna's temperament and refined B'Elanna's social graces. No matter what, however, he knew where he stood with her, especially now that she was more comfortable expressing her emotions with him.

Thoughts of her kept him moving even when he sometimes wondered if he shouldn't turn back and find the captain again. Once he decided to do something, he followed through. This was a relatively new development, as he used to be criminally flippant with his commitments. He was aware of how often this had gotten him in trouble in the past, from losing his Starfleet commission to ending up in a penal settlement. Rather than simply reach a happy medium between impetuous and thoughtful, he had moved to the opposite extreme, which was rife with its own problems.

He wanted to change, he thought as he ducked between two tree trunks and bounced over a gathering of roots. There was just no incentive. In the Delta Quadrant, a man either gave every effort to a cause, or he risked death. For once, he was doing exactly what he needed to in order to succeed.

With a small sigh, he realized he ought to take a break before he fell over. He had been pushing himself rather hard, and he hadn't been properly hydrating himself. His stomach was empty, too, and he was forced to admit that he could have planned this excursion somewhat better. Thankfully, the tree he was under had large, red objects dangling from its branches. They looked like fruit, and when he swiped one and tentatively sank his teeth into the rind, juice squirted into his mouth. He swallowed the moisture down eagerly and tore into the soft flesh eagerly. The tart taste wasn't his favorite, but he didn't feel as though he could be picky.

That small need tended to, he felt more refreshed and ready for action once more. The glint he'd set off after had eventually drifted out of his sightline, and nobody had responded to his hollering earlier, but he still had hope that he was heading in the right direction. He'd climbed a tree a few times, and he'd spotted what was probably Voyager's hull in the distance, which was likely where B'Elanna was heading.

He sucked in a deep breath and straightened once more. Although he'd enjoy dilly dallying a bit longer, he had a self-imposed mission to accomplish. He set off at a quick enough pace, one that intensified to grueling when he heard what sounded like pained screaming. Demolishing the remaining miles between himself and Voyager, he skittered into the clearing Voyager had created by knocking down trees in its unmanned descent and abruptly stopped.

Voyager had been a beautiful ship. Tom remembered staring at her from the station and being in awe of her sleek design. He'd wanted to run his hands along the perfectly smooth metal of her underbelly, which glinted elegantly in the flickering lights of the station and the surrounding stars. The memory lodged painfully in his throat as he examined how certain parts were crumpled, others were missing, and the ship's name and numerals were scraped nearly clean off.

He wondered why the safety protocols for her landing weren't properly initialized but quickly dismissed the thought. Everything was going wrong right about now, thanks to the solar activity, so he shouldn't expect anything to work properly. Spotting movement on the opposite side of the clearing, he pressed himself against a tree trunk in the hopes that he could remain innocuous and out of sight until he could determine who or what was approaching.

Tuvok straggled into the brilliant sunlight with someone in a red uniform hanging from his shoulder. Neelix hurried along behind, his hands flexing ineffectively as he tried to figure out what he could do to help. After Tuvok had rebuffed his earlier offers, Neelix wasn't sure how to apply his skill set, or even if he should try.

When he noticed Tom jogging toward them, he felt a bucket of relief douse him. "Mr. Paris!"

Rather than waste time on pleasantries, Tom nodded his head briefly but turned his attention to Tuvok. "What happened?"

Tuvok set Ensign Bronowski as gently as possible on the ground. "We are not alone. Is it possible to enter Voyager?"

"I just got here myself." Tom swallowed hard, noting certain portions of Bronowski's uniform were darker than others. "But I'll look. Do you need Neelix's help?"

"No. He may accompany you."

With Neelix at his side, Tom approached Voyager. The space in his chest felt tight, filled too thickly with emotion, and he wished he had a moment to mourn for Voyager's former glory. Even after they fixed her up, he'd just know that she wasn't what she used to be. Now, however, they needed to get inside and find medical equipment. He hoped Bronowski held on just a bit longer.

"It came out of nowhere…" Neelix paused as Tom tried to open an airlock with his bare hands. He added his own effort, and together, they popped the doors open. "The shot, I mean."

"Shots don't usually come out of nowhere."

"We found him out there in the jungle. By the mountain. He hadn't seen anyone else. Have you?"

"I was with the captain for a while." The inner doors of the airlock proved just as difficult as the outer, and he struggled until Neelix once again helped him. As soon as they were inside, he searched the room for something to help him with subsequent barriers. Among the debris, he found a pipe that suited his purposes.

"Was she okay?"

"When I left her, she was a little injured, but yeah, overall, I think she was okay."

Neelix nodded, the small piece of information giving him a tendril of hope. "She sent you here, didn't she?"

Because of his physical exertion, Tom's cheeks were already ruddy, and his blush wasn't readily apparent to the other man. "She was busy, and I thought I saw something."

"Oh."

Clearing his throat, Tom pointed down one dark tunnel in the bulkhead. "We need to get to deck five. There's no way the turbolifts are working right now, so we'll have to travel by Jefferies tubes."

"I… Are you sure you need me to accompany you?"

Neelix settled his hands uncomfortably over his stomach, not keen on squeezing into the tubes and climbing from deck to deck. He had spent several years of his life manning his own tiny ship, but he didn't like small, enclosed spaces-especially when he didn't have to endure them. Tom sighed and shook his head.

"If something out there was shooting at you, then you better help Tuvok to the ship. Get them inside, and then watch the entry to the airlock."

"Aye, sir." Neelix saluted smartly.

Tom turned before Neelix could see him rolling his eyes. He pried open the nearest tube and ducked inside. The space was dark, as not even the back up power was running, and he hoped he'd be grab each rung without actually seeing where his hands were going. Thankfully, he'd done this often enough that traversing from deck to deck was relatively easy, even without light, and he found his way onto deck five.

Something clanked in the distance, and he held his breath for several seconds, trying to determine if there was someone else aboard or if the ship was merely settling from its tumultuous landing. When he heard nothing but silence and the thud of his own heart, he hurried down the hallway to the sickbay, where he muscled the doors open and slipped inside.

He was grateful for his meager medical training, as he was able to sort through the piles of rubble and select what ought to be most helpful from the supplies. Before he left, hands laden, he stopped in the central office, where he dug around for a few minutes. On the cusp of giving up, he spotted it, hidden beneath a pile of glass that had shattered from the office's circular windows. He didn't dare activate the mobile emitter without having a more technically-minded crew member check for solar interference, but he had at least found the device.

Back by the river, Seven watched the gaggle of crewmen walk into the jungle and frowned. Despite B'Elanna's orders and reassurances, Seven had a number of concerns about remaining behind. She had a better chance at survival if she could reach her alcove herself, rather than waiting for someone to bring her supplies, to name one. Additionally, the crew might require her expertise and assistance. At the base of all her qualms, however, was a small voice, which suggested that remaining alone with Janeway would truly test her self-control.

With a crew complement around, Seven knew she could say and do nothing that was unprofessional-she'd learned that lesson early on. Now, there was no one around to deter her except herself.

"How is your leg?"

Janeway shrugged, her mind with her crew rather than her pain. Seven's question, however, sufficed to bring her back to the present moment-and she realized that she was alone with the blonde Borg who occupied her thoughts more often than not.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose."

"Do you require more of the leaf?"

"No, I'll be fine."

"Another massage?"

"No," Janeway said, her voice firm even though her resolve was weak. If Seven were to touch her so delicately again, she wasn't sure she could keep herself from reacting, especially given that there was nobody nearby to witness what transpired. Still, a crew member might wander toward the signal at any given moment, and she had to present herself in a reserved and professional manner.

Seven nodded stiffly. "You will inform me when you require something."

This would be a long wait, Janeway determined, unless she did something to occupy her time other than stare. "You could tell me what you've learned about this planet."

"As suggested earlier, Pylos does not have a nightfall, and the only darkness is provided by shadows. There is a slight variation in the oxygen level, although I am uncertain anyone but myself would have noticed. Despite having very hospitable conditions, there is very little wildlife around. Should Voyager require repairs, we could sustain ourselves in the short term, but longer than a month will strain our survival abilities."

"I initiated Voyager's landing protocols before we were beamed away. There may not be much to fix."

"Given that the suns have interfered with our technology, I would not be surprised if the protocols malfunctioned."

Janeway wondered if Seven understood the concept of hope; certainly, the Borg were not a species that relied on such frivolities, as there was only assimilation or demise, but Seven had been regaining her humanity in leaps and bounds lately. She knew Seven didn't think of her current comments as anything other than realistic, but they were needling Janeway's tenuous beliefs that this situation was within their power to fix.

"I suppose we'll just have to wait and see."

"Indeed."

Letting the conversation fade into a lull, Janeway took stock of herself once more. The pain was ever-present, but the sensation was finally beginning to fade into the fringes of her awareness; soon, she wouldn't even be cognizant that anything was wrong, just as she never noticed the fabric of her uniform on her skin. Based on the tricorder's readings, she knew she hadn't permanently damaged anything, and as nothing had broken, there was nothing to heal awkwardly without medical attention.

"Captain."

"Yes?"

"Do you think they will find Voyager and return quickly?"

Janeway's sharp gaze lifted from her leg to Seven's face, which exhibited no outward signs of her emotional state. Every member of the crew had faced life-threatening peril before, and Seven was far from sheltered. However, the more human the ex-Borg became, the more her mortality seemed frightening. Of course, Seven had never voiced anything to that extent, but Janeway was nothing if not good at reading between the lines.

"I believe so. Are you having doubts?"

Seven's stoic mask faltered for a moment as the corner of her mouth twitched down. "The crew is inefficient."

"They know what's at stake. They won't fail." Janeway waited for a response, but Seven seemed lost in her own thoughts. "What are you feeling right now?"

Seven heard the question but couldn't generate an adequate response. There were several emotions to choose from, although she was still working on understanding the full gamut of her emotional range. She'd been sad before when Icheb had been detrimentally affected to save her life. She'd been happy, and she'd been angry, as well. Nothing thus far, however, could accurately describe the thick, heavy weight in her throat. She searched her vocabulary for any word or phrase that would properly summarize her state of being.

She settled on, "Anxious," as it was true, but it also didn't reveal too much about her. Perhaps if Janeway were to her as B'Elanna was to Tom, she could better confide in the other woman, but so far, she didn't think Janeway was going to be her support.

"Why?"

"There is much still I wish to accomplish," she responded simply. "I do not want to be deactivated before my primary purpose has been fulfilled."

Janeway's eyebrows slid up. "Which is?"

"I don't know yet," Seven admitted. "However, I do know that I haven't done it, yet."

"Is there anything you'd like to do?"

"Captain?"

"We've all got a bucket list, whether we care to admit it or prefer to pretend we're above such things." Sensing that Seven didn't comprehend her meaning, Janeway elaborated, "A bucket list is a list of things someone wants to do before he or she dies. It's so you don't feel like you missed out on anything-you can pass on knowing you did everything you wanted."

"Ah."

"For example, I've always wanted to sail the Mergassen Sea." Janeway let a smile play over her features as she pictured the fantasy: a small sailboat dancing through the surf with her at the helm, the wind whipping through her hair and the birds crying over head. Of course, she didn't know how to sail, but that was a skill she felt she could pick up with moderate ease. Besides, she mused, the items on her bucket list didn't need to be completed immediately. She had time for lessons, perhaps in another decade or so when she retired from active duty. "What would you like to do?"

"I require time to consider my options."

"Well, time is the one thing we don't have to worry about right now."

Seven resumed tinkering with her regenerator; although chances were low that she would recharge the device, she had tenuous hope that she might. She'd recharge, and with her new energy, she'd lift the captain into her arms and carry the smaller woman the full distance to Voyager. She didn't expect Janeway to go quietly, but this method would be the most efficient, and Janeway would simply have to deal with any perceived problems.

While she worked, she considered Janeway's question. A member of species 6291 had experienced a trip around the Mergassen Sea, and his memories had been assimilated. She had the knowledge of millions of individuals, and thus thought that there was very little she needed to experience firsthand.

Perhaps she was thinking too large, she determined. There had to be something she wanted to experience that was unique. She glanced up from her work and examined Janeway's stout form with keen interest. Janeway hadn't provided her with very helpful parameters, and she wasn't terribly sure what constituted an adequate response; she did, however, have a desire fairly individual to her existence, one that would hopefully help her draw some conclusions about the confusion blossoming in her heart.

Sensing Seven's gaze on her, Janeway smiled and cocked an eyebrow. "Well? Have you decided?"

"Had I the opportunity, I would engage in sexual intercourse with you," Seven said simply, returning her attention to her work. She missed the look of longing that passed quickly over Janeway's features, having deemed her answer acceptable and the conversation complete.

Janeway felt her cheeks heating, entirely certain that the Borg had missed the purpose of a bucket list, which was, in her opinion, to be filled with things that one could actively accomplish, rather than-fantasies? Janeway paused, wondering if Seven had those about her.

"That's not usually something you put on a bucket list."

Seven's hand hovered over the regenerator as she evaluated what she had done incorrectly. "Explain."

"Well, mostly…" Janeway cleared her throat. "Items on your bucket list are things you can accomplish by yourself. Like going sailing, or skydiving, or seeing the lunar lights. They don't depend on other people."

"In order to accomplish the goals you listed, you would need to purchase passage and supplies. Other people would be in a position to deny you access. Does that eliminate those goals as possibilities?"

"You could always get your supplies elsewhere."

"And if the Mergassens did not allow you access to their region of the planet?"

"Then I wouldn't be able to cross that item off my list."

"By your logic, not all items are necessarily reasonable or something one can accomplish."

"I suppose not."

"Then why is my bucket list inappropriate?"

Sputtering was beneath Janeway's dignity, but she nearly did so. Instead, she rubbed her chin and shook her head, buying herself a moment to consider her retort. "I am your captain, Seven."

"I am not a Starfleet officer," Seven reminded her. "While I accept your leadership, I am not bound to your ship or in your service."

"It's just not done." Janeway cleared her throat, deciding that further conversation about this particular topic would achieve nothing good. While she'd enjoy helping Seven with her aspirations, they both needed to realize that under the circumstances, nothing could develop between them.

"Very well. I will reconsider."

That certainly answered one question, Seven decided. There was no interest in Janeway's tone, no curiosity in her gaze. No matter what she did or did not feel for Janeway, those feelings were not returned. Storing that away—and dealing with the unfamiliar disappointment swelling through her as a consequence—Seven concentrated harder on charging her device.

Meanwhile, Janeway took a few deep breaths in a futile attempt to lower her pulse. Thankfully, she could explain her sudden spike in physiological response as a direct reaction to an inappropriate statement. There was no way Seven truly understood what she was saying; although the Borg had certainly grown accustom to much of her humanity, there were indeed areas she still struggled with, and Janeway knew this to be one of them. She'd be hard pressed to forget the report of Ensign Kim's ill-fated run-in with Seven, when she'd offered sex to the young officer without any concept of what that might mean for either of them.

Rather than embarrass herself by revealing her interest, she preferred to be indignant in the hopes that Seven might someday come to understand the implications of making statements like that.

No matter what she said, however, her mind knew exactly what she wanted, and banishing the desire and the fantasy took more than a moment, as well as every bit of her waning control. This was ridiculous, she scolded herself. She was a seasoned starship captain, and she ought to be capable of hearing something lascivious without acting like a horny teenager—even if that enticing statement came from the most appealing woman in the Quadrant.

While Seven was distracted, Janeway allowed herself the moment to survey the other woman. The appeal, she decided, was not limited to Seven's sharp features or comely figure. She was drawn to Seven's unique perspective on the world, as well as Seven's ability to challenge her in ways that most of Voyager's crew didn't dare. Even Chakotay, who provided the most friction to her captaincy, knew when to back down; Seven, however, pushed until something broke, and Janeway realized she needed a bit of that in her life, especially given how long they had been and would remain lost.

Seven abruptly broke the silence a moment later, lifting her gaze once more and stating blandly, "I suppose I would like to see Earth."

"We'll get there," Janeway promised. "But first we have to get off this planet."

Back by Voyager, Tuvok gingerly lifted Bronowski and carried the unconscious man into the waiting safety of the airlock. Neelix kept his phaser swinging wildly from target to target, as if something might rush out of the trees at any moment to harangue them. Tuvok supposed he appreciated the enthusiasm, but he suspected the Talaxian would do more harm than good should the need to fire arise.

"Mr. Neelix."

Neelix jerked the weapon toward Tuvok, who restrained his urge to step out of the way and instead set his hand atop Neelix's. Neelix's eyebrows shifted up as he realized what Tuvok wanted, and he relinquished the phaser with a glance back at the outside world.

"What can I do?"

"Tend to Ensign Bronowski," Tuvok commanded, taking his post near the door. "If any change in his bio readings occurs, alert me."

Neelix squatted near his charge and patted the downed man's shoulder. "Don't worry, Ensign. You're in good hands."

He hoped the statement was true, but he found he was more uncertain than his tone let on. He was out of his depth, as he so often was. Ever since Voyager had exited his territory, he'd strived to make himself useful, but the truth was that he felt he had very little to offer beyond kind words and wise advice, neither of which was something Voyager couldn't do without. Even now, nothing he said or did would save Bronowski or undo the damage to Voyager.

In addition to his own doubt, he could feel Tuvok's disdain for him at times. He knew he was hardly the stoic Vulcan's first choice in a survival partner, but he did know how to make due with meager supplies and dwindling morale. He'd spent a good deal of his time on Voyager trying to win Tuvok's approval, but he feared that his goal was impossible. While he knew that outside validation wasn't truly necessary to happiness, or so he'd told a few lonely ensigns several times, his opinion of his value to Voyager was once again waning.

Now was hardly the time to wallow, he thought, trying to bolster his own spirits. As Chief Morale Officer, keeping up his own spirits was part of his duties, and even in an emergency situation, he refused to be derelict. They would all get through this, and perhaps there'd even be a lesson of some sort they could learn.

"Do you see anything out there?"

Tuvok scanned the trees. "All is quiet."

"Did you get a clear look at what fired at us? At the ensign?"

"I did not."

"I saw something," Neelix mused, although his memory of the incident was already a bit hazy. "Something metal, I think."

"Perhaps."

"Maybe something's wearing armor?"

"Initial scans of this planet did not reveal sentient life forms."

"Scans have been wrong before." Neelix couldn't stop the reproach that entered his voice. "Something out there could be hunting us."

"If they are, then they are doing so very slowly, and we will gain nothing by panicking."

"I envy you, Mr. Vulcan."

"Indeed."

"Yes." Neelix sighed. "As a cook, you'd think I'd be in better shape when the heat was on—but that doesn't seem to be the case at all."

"We all have our own strengths," Tuvok allowed, recognizing there was little to be gained from making Neelix feel worse. "You are performing adequately now."

Neelix brightened. He didn't need validation, he thought, but he sure appreciated it. "The ensign's vital signs are steady."

As if waiting for that precise statement to herald his return, Tom entered the airlock with emergency medical supplies in his arms. He dropped most of what he carried in his haste, holding onto only a medical tricorder and dermal regenerator. The solar activity would interfere, of course, but he hoped the devices would function to some extent.

Flipping the tricorder open, he scanned the small, bullet-shaped sensor along Ensign Bronowski's body; frustrated, he determined that although the tricorder was working, the results were garbled. To get a clean reading, he'd need to account for the solar activity, which might take more time than Bronowski had to spare.

"Lieutenant?"

"I need to modify the tricorder," Tom said, a tenor of stress lacing his tone. "I'll work as fast as I can but…"

"We will deal with events as they unfold. Begin your work."

Bronowski groaned quietly, his eyelids fluttering open even though his eyes didn't focus on anything in particular. He reached out until his hand landed on Neelix's knee. Neelix grabbed the wandering hand and squeezed, hoping to provide Bronowski support and the knowledge that he wasn't alone.

"Wh…?"

"Ensign, you'll be okay. You're back onboard Voyager, which is still grounded, but you're safe. Lt. Paris is fixing a tricorder to help you. Do you understand?"

The broad-shouldered ensign normally was pale, but his pallor was currently ghastly. Neelix swallowed hard, hoping that this wasn't as dire a symptom as he thought. There were plenty of reasons to be pale, after all, and not all of them were lethal. In fact, most weren't.

Tom paused in his work long enough to grab a pack of rations, which he tossed to Neelix. Neelix pulled a water container out and tipped it carefully against the ensign's lips. Despite Neelix's care, liquid dribbled from the corners of Bronowski's mouth; desperate to help, Neelix quickly dabbed the fallen man dry.

"Probably not thirsty," he proclaimed, just in case either Tom or Tuvok was paying attention. However, neither man responded, and Neelix was left feeling awkward and out-of-place. He frowned and kept his gaze locked on the slow rise and fall of Bronowski's chest.

Tom bent closer to the tricorder, painfully aware of the stakes. From what he could see in his peripheral vision, Bronowski was not doing well. He was tempted to activate the Doctor, but he knew better than to risk their greatest medical asset. He could do this. He could.

"Mr. Paris." Neelix's throat clenched, but he forced the words out. "He's seizing."

Casting technology aside, Tom lunged forward and tilted the ensign sideways. Bronowski's body distorted as it flexed and plunged in different directions, his muscles confused by the strained messages sent by his struggling brain. When Bronowski finally fell still, Tom allowed him to lie flat once more and pressed fingers to his pulse. Feeling nothing, Tom clasped his hands together and began pushing against Bronowski's chest. The feeling of ribs cracking under his hands made him shudder, but he toiled on, determined to get the other man's heart pumping once more.

A hand descended onto his shoulder and pulled him away. He glanced up, outraged at Tuvok's blasé expression. "I can—"

"You cannot."

Tom wrested free and stood, clenching his fists at his sides. He knew his anger wasn't with Tuvok, whose assessment of the situation was correct, but with his own helplessness. Swallowing back his own upset, he let out a shaky breath and uncurled his hands.

"I'll start working on a stasis device," Tom offered weakly, not willing to let a fellow officer suffer the indignity of decay.

Tuvok stared down at Bronowski a moment before turning his attention once more to the woods. The young ensign's fatality was on his watch, and he would not allow any other crew member to suffer a similar fate.

"Very well. Will you require Neelix's assistance?"

Aware of Neelix's aversion to the Jefferies tubes, Tom shook his head. "I should be okay alone."

"Be careful, Lieutenant. We do not have a means to communicate with one another should something go amiss."

"I'll be back before you know it."

As Tom edged into Voyager's dim bulkheads, his best friend stumbled through the trees a dozen miles away. Ensign Harry Kim had seen a number of difficult times in the past half a decade or so, but he supposed that every moment Voyager and her crew remained in the Delta Quadrant was a fresh opportunity for the universe to rain pain and chaos on his life. He didn't blame the captain for the horrors he faced, but he did wonder from time to time what his life might have looked like had she not destroyed their chance at immediately returning home.

During his youth, his parents had done everything to protect him from the dangers of the world, even as they had exposed him to as much as possible. He'd developed a sense that he was invincible, knowing that no matter what happened, his parents would help him. While his experiences in the academy had been more difficult than others, he'd still maintained his view that nothing could stop him.

His inflating ego had been popped, however, when he faced both death and failure in this quadrant. He knew what he was doing, he thought, but he also knew what he couldn't do, yet. He supposed that's what was keeping him alive on this planet, where his tricorder wasn't working and he was utterly alone.

He dragged the back of his hand across his forehead and mopped the sweat from his brow with a small frown. He didn't dare eat or drink anything he came across because he wasn't sure what was safe for human consumption, but he was getting hungry, and dehydration was pounding painfully in his temples. Desperation may sway his decisions soon, he noted, even as he pushed forward.

Part of him wanted to sit down and wait, but he didn't know where he was or what was happening. Sitting around would make him antsy, while walking, even aimlessly, felt like he was doing something. Every once in awhile, he tapped his comm badge and called out to the bridge; each time he was filled with hope in the following second or two, and each time, the disappointment and isolation struck him harder. The one thing this quadrant had taught him that home hadn't, however, was self-efficacy. He ignored his doubts and focused solely on keeping himself going.

A shrill beeping forced him to a halt. He squinted through the sunlight, wondering if his faith in Voyager's crew was going to finally be rewarded; the being approaching him could be a crew member, and he could be going home sooner rather than later. He took a step back as he realized that his expectations were based entirely on fantasy instead of fact.

For a moment, he wondered if he was trapped in one of Tom's holoprograms. What approached him was bipedal, although he wasn't sure if it was organic. Because most of the thing was covered in metal plating, he was having difficulties discerning much of anything about the creature, but it did look something like Satan's Robot. If only his tricorder was working, he mused. Without his technology, he had no idea what he was up against.

Determined to make this first contact experience pleasant, especially because he had nothing with which to defend himself, he stood straight and stated his greeting: "Hello. I'm Ensign Harry Kim, of the Federation Starship Voyager. I mean you no harm."

The machine—if that's what it was—ground to a halt, what might have been eyes pointing in his direction. Small lights flared along the cracks in its metal armor, which Harry guessed meant it was thinking—processing?

"I'm looking for my friends," he tried again. "I don't know how many of them ended up here, but if you have any idea where I could find them, I'd appreciate the assistance. I'm sure my captain would be willing to compensate you for your time."

The thing remained in place, its lights racing from one edge to the other. Finally, it emitted another series of shrills beeps and turned away from him. Unsure what that meant but hoping the sounds were an invitation, Harry fell into step behind the robot and made idle conversation about what a lovely planet this was. Upon realizing his companion wasn't paying him any mind, he silenced and instead tried to figure out just what he was walking with.

That a humanoid life form might be beneath all that metal remained a possibility, but he was growing less certain. To wear that much metal in this sort of heat was just asking for temperature-related problems, unless the life forms had an advanced biological response that maintained their body heat. If this were a completely mechanical being, he wondered what is purpose on this planet was and if its creator were still nearby.

He followed it through the jungle to the base of a towering mountain. He stopped as the robot entered what looked like a mine entrance, unsure if he wanted to go into a dark and potentially dangerous situation. The only reason he decided to move forward and give chase was a small, echoing laugh from within that sounded all too human.


	3. Into the Abyss

Beta'd by LexTenou (character/plot) and LunaFanning (grammar/style/character).  
Cover by nicolaruth27.

* * *

3: Into the Abyss

Chakotay crouched low, examined the broken branches, and confirmed his suspicion: someone, probably Tom Paris, had come this direction. He couldn't determine how long ago, but the damage done to the natural scenery was not like what the native wildlife would have created. His mouth quirked up in a smile; as if he knew what the native wildlife would do to this habitat. Still, animals were animals, and every planet had its own form of natural selection; those that blended in well and thrived in a given environment survived.

As intruders, they would need to be wary of their impact, he determined. This ecosystem likely had a delicate balance of predators and prey, one that he didn't want to upset. Of course, this would be a nonissue if they found Voyager safely landed and ready for immediate use. Given their luck, he wasn't holding out much hope, despite how loudly he encouraged the crew members.

"Commander."

When her hand landed on his shoulder, he glanced up at B'Elanna with a grim smile. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"There are several ensigns lagging behind. Requesting permission to hurry them along."

He cocked an eyebrow. "What might that entail?"

She snorted. "I'm not going to threaten them, if that's what you're afraid of. I'm just going to remind them of what's at stake."

"B'Elanna…" He straightened so he could better look into her eyes. "I understand that you're worried about Tom—"

"He's a big boy. He can take care of himself."

"Regardless, he's out there alone, and that can't be easy for you."

"I'm used to this." She folded her arms defensively over her chest. "He follows his impulses, and I'm left to think through the implications and clean up whatever mess he's created. I'm not worried, and this isn't difficult."

Sensing that he wasn't going to sway her—and silently bemoaning her Klingon stubbornness—he nodded. "Request denied. We've been hiking for an hour, and the heat is only getting worse. We should take a break before someone has a stroke."

"But—"

"I'm in charge," he reminded her gently. "I haven't forgotten what's at stake, so you don't need to remind me."

She bit back a growl and stomped to the trunk of a tree while Chakotay announced that they would be halted for twenty minutes. He didn't seem to understand at all, she thought. He continued to assume that Tom was the source of her concern, when in reality he was almost intentionally ignoring who was truly at risk. While part of her was indeed worried about Tom, who was more likely to find trouble than anyone else she knew, the more immediate problem was Seven's failing implants. She shouldn't be surprised. From the beginning, Chakotay had been suspicious, and subsequent years had done very little to soften his opinion. As long as Seven continued to function in their favor, he wouldn't complain, but neither would he worry himself about her wellbeing. She wondered if he knew how similar to the Borg he seemed.

In contrast, although she wasn't initially close with Seven, she was beginning to like the blonde's dry wit more and more. Given enough time, they might become friends. She didn't think Seven had many of those, other than the Doctor, who seemed more like a mentor. There was the little girl, too, B'Elanna considered, but that could hardly be a real, adult friendship. Playing Kadis-Kot and exploring holostories together was one thing; having a sounding board who cared about and could understand emotional issues was another. Thus far, she hadn't seen Seven confide in anyone.

That was reliant on Seven having complex feelings, she realized, but the Borg was becoming more and more human, which meant there was more beneath her bland expressions than most people probably expected. B'Elanna knew she was guilty of assuming there was nothing to Seven in the past, but she wasn't going to make that mistake again, especially if Seven and the captain had something going on like B'Elanna suspected. She shouldn't be so nosy, but she was always a bit more curious than was good for her health.

She supposed that's why she and Tom got on so well. Although he had much less wisdom to temper his decisions, they were both prone to sticking their noses where they weren't supposed to be. A snort of laughter slipped out as she realized just how far she'd come in balancing her Klingon voracity with her human sensibility. Maybe Tom's humanity was rubbing off on her, she considered, which meant that he might be responding to her Klingon nature in return.

While B'Elanna was thinking about him, he, too, was thinking about her. He clambered through the Jefferies tubes and tried to remember the exact curve of her smile, as the image kept him moving even when he wanted to sit and rest. He had diverted from his quest to find a stasis device in order to access the bridge, but the trek there was longer than he expected. Still, if he could reach the bridge, then he might be able to use the consoles there to set up another beacon. He wasn't sure if Janeway was mobile yet, but she'd need something to guide her to the ship until someone got the transporters working once more.

When he pried his way onto the bridge twenty minutes later, he plopped into the captain's chair and stared out at the blank view screen. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he considered just how many repairs Voyager would need to be space-worthy once more and grimaced. His trip from the airlock to the bridge had been filled with debris, so he could only imagine what the rest of the ship must look like.

The amount of work to be done was overwhelming, but he knew he had to get started somewhere. He tapped the console between Janeway's and Chakotay's seats; nothing flickered to life under his fingers, so he stood and headed for the nearest panel that covered the power couplings for the bridge. Although he wasn't quite skilled enough to fully account for solar activity in a tricorder, he was more than used to restoring power on the Flyer when needed. Part of being a great pilot, he thought, was in knowing his machine—not just how to handle her, but how to soothe her troubles, as well.

He halted only once when he realized he needed a few tools. There was a hyperspanner in a compartment along the wall near the turbolift, which he grabbed and utilized. Cognizant that a misstep could fry Voyager further and stymie his progress, he gently worked through potential and actual problems until he was satisfied that he had restored partial power. He returned to the captain's chair and rubbed his palms on his slacks.

His breath caught in his throat as he pressed his now-dry fingers to the console. His anxiety bled away when the screen flickered tentatively to life. His luck was changing, he thought. Hopefully, the rest of his current mission would continue going this smoothly. Cognizant despite his optimism that this good turn might not last, he first ran a status check on Voyager and frowned at the results.

Not only had Voyager crashed, he determined—it had also nearly destroyed most of its major systems. From what he could tell, repair would be no small feat, although he was dead certain that B'Elanna could accomplish most of the engineering requirements quickly and efficiently. He missed her quite badly and swallowed hard at the thought of her. She'd be there shortly, however, so he couldn't sit and mope about their separation. Instead, he needed to set the beacon up to help her find him faster.

With a few determined flicks of his fingers, he began an audio recording. Without wasting time, he barked out their coordinates as best as he could figure them and a short warning that something may be in the jungle. Once that was complete, he set the file to loop on the emergency channel and continued on his way to find a stasis device.

As he passed by Tuvok's normal posting, he spotted a phaser. He nabbed it, just in case they were attacked again. He didn't want what happened to Bronowski to happen to anyone else, himself included. With the weapon tucked into his waistband, he hurried along the dark bulkheads and down the Jefferies tubes until he was once more in the sickbay. As he sorted through the rubble again and found a reasonably undamaged stasis device, he heard a sort of clanging in the room adjacent.

The noise could have been in his imagination, he determined. After all, being alone in a deserted starship was something that could cause his imagination to run wild. The possibility also remained that the ship's rough landing had snapped something mechanical and that something was subsequently knocking around. Still, he didn't want to run into trouble because he wasn't being careful.

He snuck down the bulkhead and pressed his ear to the door; he heard scraping, beeping, and crashing, all of which made him reach for his phaser. On the count of three, he yanked the doors open and threw himself inside. For a moment, he stood motionless at the sight of something large and metallic floundering about the enclosed space. Then, when it spotted him and pointed a sharp tipped weapon at him, his senses returned, and he opened fire.

* * *

All in all, Janeway knew she could be in a worse position. Just because she was alone with the woman who was constantly occupying her thoughts—who had only an hour before casually mentioned wanting to have sex with her—didn't change that she wasn't in very much pain anymore or the knowledge that her crew was, for the most part, well.

She sat on the fallen tree trunk, chin resting in her palm, and tried very hard to not pay attention to Seven without seeming like she was trying not to pay attention to Seven. Thankfully, the Borg wasn't as attuned to what subtle differences in her expression and posture might mean, so she didn't need to worry that she was too obvious. This was a boon because she knew she probably had all the subtleness of a peacock hiding on a snowy plain.

If they sat in silence until they were beamed to the ship, then Janeway could avoid making a fool of herself. With that in mind, she clamped down on her desire to make casual conversation and instead invested herself in cataloguing everything she understood about the planet and its environment for her captain's log later.

"What is appealing about the Mergassen Sea?"

Janeway sighed; she ought to have known that just because she was hoping for silence, that didn't mean that Seven would innately understand and comply. "Everything I've heard describes the scenery as very lovely."

"There is lovely scenery in many places," Seven replied. She looked up from her project just long enough to gesture at the trees around them. "This planet, for example, has many qualities that one might think of as lovely."

"I'd be more inclined to agree with you if we weren't stranded here. It's hard to objectively judge the aesthetic qualities of a place when you've crash landed."

"The Doctor encourages me to 'stop and smell the roses,' no matter the situation. Perhaps you should as well."

Seven wasn't sure just what was encouraging her to chat in this manner. Certainly, she had very little desire for small talk in most circumstances, and most of the crew filled her ears with inaner babble than she ever cared to listen to; they were, as she understood, simply nervous being around her, which caused a strange loosening of their tongue. Ensign Kim had been one of the worst offenders, although she had to recognize that his communication stemmed from attraction rather than anxiety.

She wondered if that was the case with her in this moment as well. After Janeway had dismissed her first attempt at a bucket list, she'd worked quite hard on not enjoying the way Janeway carried herself, or how a touch of arrogance twisted Janeway's smiles into a much more interesting expression. As she processed these thoughts, she realized just how badly she'd failed at her task; indeed, rather than deactivate her feelings, she seemed to have upgraded them.

"I suppose we have plenty of time to smell whatever flowers this planet has to offer."

"You will inform me if you need another leaf in order to dull your pain."

"I'm not in pain anymore. Well, not as much. But thank you."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Seven stared down at her lap, wishing that she had good news to share. However, her portable regenerator wasn't cooperating in the slightest; the device needed to recharge just as badly as she did, and there was no way of knowing just what the solar activity was doing to its functionality anyway. Still, she continued trying because she couldn't stand the thought of sitting around and leaving her fate in the hands of others. B'Elanna would do her best, she knew, but the chief engineer was fallible.

"Are you doing okay?"

Seven set her tool aside and ran her hands over the regenerator. "I fear that I will not be able to fix this in time to save my implants from failing."

"Don't give up hope. I'm sure the crew will find Voyager with plenty of time to spare—"

"Presuming they walk at a pace of four miles an hour, they will find Voyager in another hour or so. I will be running low on energy but will not be terminal. However, if the solar activity interferes with the transporter, we may be here for much longer until Lt. Torres can compensate. In that case, I may cease to function."

"Seven—"

"These are the facts," Seven interrupted. She had no use for sentiment or histrionics, and while she understood Janeway's tone to be one of comfort, she had little use for that either. "The chance that my implants will cease to function is quite high, and pretending otherwise is an unnecessary waste of our energy."

"I'm not going to let you die."

"I'm afraid, Captain, that you don't have much say in the matter."

Janeway firmed her jaw and sat a little straighter. "I promise, Seven, that I'll do everything in my power to keep you going."

"And if you can't?"

"I refuse to entertain that notion." There would come a time when she'd have to acknowledge how powerless she was against the will of the universe, but for the time being, she could pretend to be more in control than she actually was. After all, she was a strong believer in making her own luck.

She didn't want to lose Seven for personal reasons—but she would feel the exact same way about every crew member's life. She set her jaw, determined to convince herself of the truth of that statement, even as she considered the possibilities: if Commander Tuvok and one of her ensigns were on an away mission gone horribly wrong, and she could only transport one of them to safety, she had to admit that once she exhausted all her options, she would save Tuvok. He wasn't inherently worth more, she thought, but finding a chief of security was fairly difficult this far from the Alpha Quadrant.

Had she the choice between Seven and an ensign, she knew she'd still choose Seven. While someone like Ensign Kim could probably take over astrometrics if she did need to replace Seven, there was something irreplaceable about the ex-drone—a role Seven played in Janeway's life that she couldn't quite put into words.

In any event, she wasn't going to let things get to that point. Seven would be just fine, and there was nothing to worry about.

"Are you certain you don't require another leaf? You're sweating."

Janeway rubbed her fingers along her forehead and shook her head. "That's the heat, not the pain."

"The temperature is increasing," Seven replied, her tone doubtful as she thought through the implications. "Perhaps we are nearing the hottest part of this planet's day. It may cool off in the coming hours."

"We can only hope. I appreciate sunshine to a certain extent, but everything in moderation."

"I will monitor the temperature and keep you updated."

"I'd rather you didn't. Save your energy."

Seven tilted her head in acquiescence and resumed her fruitless fiddling with the regenerator. She would obey the captain's order on this occasion, she decided, simply because she may require the energy later to protect Janeway should they encounter trouble. Nothing would stop her from protecting the fiery, injured woman—not even the fiery, injured woman herself. Eventually, however, she had to set her work aside, as horrible, human frustration inhibited her ability to perform at an adequate level.

"Is something wrong?"

Seven shook her head and wished she were more Borg than human, or at least a bit Vulcan. Accomplishing tasks had been a good deal easier when she wasn't so keenly aware of her own failings.

"I require a break."

"Then take one," Janeway encouraged, leaning forward.

Seven understood that pauses were worthwhile in that one could rest, refresh, and restart with better results, but the idea of doing nothing while her implants were failing was torturous. "I find the concept difficult."

"To understand?"

"To accept."

"Believe me, I can empathize."

Seven thought the claim to be a gross underestimation, as she'd seen Janeway work to the point of exhaustion on more than a few occasions. Indeed, there were times when she was worried about Janeway's continued existence; she did not enjoy the feeling that created in her, and she wasn't eager to experience such a terrible knot in her internal organs again.

"Perhaps too well," she finally responded.

"I still enjoy my free time."

"Oh?"

"A game or two of Velocity on the holodeck. A book of poetry in the evenings. A cup of coffee in the morning, before anyone knows I'm awake." Janeway closed her eyes, savoring the memories of her happier moments.

"I see."

"What is it that occupies your off-duty time?"

Seven felt more like a hologram than a human as she was forced to admit that she didn't have many hobbies or interests at all. Even the Doctor had expanded beyond his subroutines, she thought, and yet, she remained bound to the Borg ideal that fun was inefficient and hobbies were irrelevant.

"I regenerate when necessary," she stated finally. "Otherwise, I complete the work assigned to me and browse the databanks. More recently, I have engaged in Kadis-Kot with Naomi Wildman, although I do not find the exercise particularly fun. She is rather easy to beat."

Janeway couldn't stop the bark of laughter that punctuated Seven's statement. "She's a child, Seven."

"Perhaps, but she is an inefficient player regardless of her age. Mezoti was younger than her and infinitely more skilled."

Referring to one of the Borg children who had left Voyager made Seven's throat tighten, but she did her best not to dwell on the disappointment she still felt when she recalled their abandonment of her. The twins had a family, she reminded herself, and Mezoti had a chance to fit in better than she ever had. While she had a good reason for interceding on Icheb's behalf, there was nothing to prevent the younger three children from returning to a normal life.

"Mezoti wasn't exactly an average child."

"Per my experience with children, it is Naomi who strays from the norm."

"You can't judge children against each other—it's not fair to them. It's especially unfair when your point of reference is technologically enhanced children who have accessed the hive mind and knowledge of the Borg."

Knowing that Janeway wasn't criticizing how she was raised but still feeling a bit attacked, Seven glared at the ground. Had she leveled her grouchy expression at the slighter woman, she wouldn't have been able to hold onto her anger; there was something about Janeway that stole the ire from her veins.

After a moment, she added, "I also enjoy music."

"As I recall, the Doctor was thrilled with your vocal talent."

"You would not tell a cello that it was talented," Seven countered. "A cello's sound comes from its craftsmanship and its tuning."

"And also its player."

"Your point?"

"You're implying that you're an instrument that's been built with the right parts and ignoring that a cello doesn't make music by itself. In the wrong hands, it's downright awful to listen to. You have a beautiful, Borg-enhanced voice, but you also possess the complementary musical talent."

The compliment warmed Seven considerably, although she still thought the idea of her as talented was nonsense. "Thank you."

"I can tell you don't really believe me." Janeway wiped at the sweat dribbling on her forehead and wondered if Seven's earlier prediction about the heat declining would come to fruition. She could definitely use even a slight break from the beating of the sun, or at least an ice-cold drink. "I suppose you don't have to."

"I have yet to fully understand that aspect of humanity."

"Which one?"

"Humans are too content with subjectivity. What you understand from your limited perspective is enough, so you don't strive for objective perfection and complete understanding."

"It helps to know that there's no such thing as objective perfection, in so far as real, obtainable goals go."

"This is inefficient. If every individual has a different opinion on what is acceptable, then how can humans ever achieve anything great?"

"We've done plenty great," Janeway responded with a bit more bite than she intended. She softened her tone as she added, "And all because of our varied perspectives. As the saying goes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. We follow what matters to us personally, and no matter how inefficient we are, you can't deny the greatness of our accomplishments."

"What is it you find beautiful?"

Janeway realized that she couldn't simply spit out the word 'you,' so she thought briefly before responding. "There's romance in the expanses of space. I can write reports for Starfleet, but they can't understand what it meant and how it felt. The experience is… special."

"Unique."

"Exactly."

"I also find myself attracted to that which is unique."

"Oh?"

Clamping down on the feelings she knew Janeway would not affirm or return, she nodded and turned back to her work. She knew Janeway wanted an explanation to continue their conversation, but Seven couldn't think of a single thing to say that wouldn't either completely change the subject or unnecessarily humiliate her.

* * *

Harry entered the cave, aware that trepidation was slowing his movement more than he would have liked. He followed the sound of voices down several tunnels; fear hammered in his heart at the occasional silence, especially when he found himself at a fork between two paths, but without fail, the chattering returned. He ducked his head and entered a small room, illuminated by glowing orbs embedded in the walls. After but a moment in the space, he identified the source of the noise that had lured him in.

"Naomi Wildman?" He peered at the little girl and turned his attention to the stocky boy sitting beside her. "Icheb?"

"Harry Kim," Icheb replied, the Borg implant that followed the arch of his nose glinting in the unnatural light.

"What are you doing in this cave?" Harry glanced around. "Did a robot come through here?"

"They do sometimes." Naomi smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"Have you been able to communicate with them?"

"I tried to talk to one, but it didn't even notice me. I followed it," Naomi explained. "It didn't even care."

That hopefully meant that the robots weren't dangerous. Harry let out a relieved sigh and moved on to his next concern. "Are either of you injured from the transport?"

Naomi nodded. "Icheb said his arm was broken."

"Her statement is correct." Icheb lifted his right arm slowly for Harry's appraisal.

Having never been trained in medical matters, Harry had no idea how to tell the extent of an injury. That was for the best, he thought, because he also didn't know much more than how to run a dermal regenerator along a scratch. Seeing as the injury was probably a lot worse than that, and they didn't have medical supplies, his input wouldn't be helpful in any form.

"You seem like you're handling it well," he offered.

"To do otherwise would be inefficient."

When Icheb lowered his limb once more, Harry rubbed the back of his neck and considered his options. The crew was out there somewhere, but he didn't want to move Icheb too much without having a destination in mind. Naomi, too, seemed content where she was, and he was no good with kids.

"What were you two planning to do?"

"Naomi wishes to find her mother. I was going to help her as soon as I felt strong enough."

"It might be best if you two stayed here. That way I'd know where to find you again."

"But my mom—"

"Will want you to be safe and secure for when she finds you, okay?" He set a hand on her head and totally missed the disgruntled look she gave him. "Icheb, can I count on you to make sure she stays put?"

"I can be responsible for myself." She shook her head until he removed his hand and glowered at him.

"You're still a little girl."

"I took care of myself until now."

"Naomi—"

Without waiting for him to speak again, she darted into the dark tunnels; before Harry could sprint after her, Icheb grabbed his shoulder and held him back.

"She'll come back."

"She shouldn't be alone."

"And you shouldn't underestimate her."

Harry rubbed his temples and nodded. "Fine. But if Ensign Wildman complains, I'm sending her to you."

Icheb nodded stiffly. "What will you do now?"

"I'd like to find Voyager, but I think my time would be better spent investigating these robots. As long as there's no dampening field, the crew should be able to lock onto our comm badges when they have transporters back online."

"You may require my assistance." When Harry looked doubtful, Icheb stood a little taller and added, "I have studied the layout of these tunnels. I can guide you."

"Fine. But… I'm in charge, okay?"

Icheb inclined his head and awaited his orders.

* * *

B'Elanna sighed with relief as Chakotay gave the signal to keep moving. She was on the verge of returning to her cantankerous and contrary ways; as a Maquis, she'd had no qualms about complaining to the captain about his decisions, and only Starfleet regulations kept her tongue properly in check. However, she knew that if she backslid, so too would the commander. Her criticism could be checked with a physical rebuff, especially if he didn't have time or resources to sort through her demands.

There were still whispers about how he dealt with the Maquis crew members who chafed under Starfleet protocols. He was so even tempered, she considered, until the exact moment when he unleashed his anger. Like the sting of a scorpion, however, his attacks were short lived. Once his purpose had been served, there was no more. She appreciated his control and sometimes wished that she too could manage a measured release of her tension like that. Instead, when she blew her lid about some slight or another, she couldn't quite tamp back down on her rage without outside assistance.

Before Tom that meant fighting until someone knocked her on her ass. Now, though, the sound of his voice was enough to break through her frustration and bring her back to herself. That he wasn't there with her in that moment was pitiable, and she hoped nothing occurred to cause her to lose control.

The heat in combination with the flagging ensigns might be sufficient, but she was smart enough to realize that attacking someone during this hike would not only halt progress but waste precious time and energy. She'd save her fury for later, when she could release her aggression in a safe manner—preferably on Tom, who somehow wasn't intimidated by her ferocity. She supposed his lack of fear came from an agreement early on, which enabled him to curtail any activity he deemed too rough with only a word.

She endured a break every hour for the next three hours and chafed each time Chakotay insisted she stay with the group rather than letting her barrel ahead. The crew was already scattered, he argued, and he couldn't let them split farther apart. She supposed he had a point and recognized that he had full authority for the moment, but she didn't have to like any of what was transpiring. When they finally spotted Voyager in the distance, he couldn't stop her from sprinting at full speed.

Spotting an ajar airlock, she changed her trajectory and skidded inside, barely avoiding knocking into Neelix, who stood with his back to the outside world as he listened attentively to Tom. Tom's wild gesticulation petered out the moment he spotted B'Elanna. He pushed past his audience, pulled her into his arms, and hugged her for several moments before leaning back to kiss her. She sank against him, relieved to have found him again.

"I need to get to the transporter room."

"I'll get you there," Tom promised. "Did you run into trouble?"

She stalked deeper into the ship, pausing only to tip her head in Tuvok's direction. He seemed rather unimpressed with their passionate reunion, but then, reading his mien was something B'Elanna consistently struggled to do.

"Chakotay and a bunch of the crew are right behind me. They'll fill you in," she told Tuvok before turning her attention to Tom. Together, they hurried down the bulkhead. "The captain is with Seven back at the river bank where you left her. She was too injured to walk, and Seven's power is going to run out soon."

"Didn't she regenerate before we were beamed down? And what about her portable regenerator?"

"She told me she'd been working on a project that consumed her attention." B'Elanna frowned, unsure of what might be so important that Seven could just ignore her own needs. "We've been planet side long enough that her emergency recharge isn't cutting it anymore. She needs her alcove up and running."

"I was able to get some power flowing to the bridge. I bet I could get power restored in a few other areas."

"Like Cargo Bay Two and the transporter room?"

"Your wish is my command. I'll start with the transporter room, so you can get started faster."

While Tom fiddled with the power grid, B'Elanna leaned against the console. She wanted to talk to him and share her worries, but she didn't want to distract him from his work. Just once, she thought, she wanted a week or so of peace and quiet. Unfortunately, the Delta Quadrant didn't seem inclined to provide much of a vacation, not to mention Janeway had a predisposition for attracting trouble.

"I'm having a little trouble."

"Anything I can do?"

"No." Tom leaned closer. "Just cross your fingers that we're running out of bad luck."

She thought the human idea of finger crossing was ridiculous, but she lifted her hand for his benefit and did as he asked. He shot her a grateful look over his shoulder, and she supposed that a bit of conversation might relieve some of his stress and help him focus.

"I'm glad you're okay."

"Me, too. About you, I mean."

"What were you telling Tuvok and Neelix about when I ran in?"

He narrowed his eyes, but she wasn't sure if this was to help him see more clearly or if the topic disgruntled him.

"There was this robot near the sickbay. Like, straight out of one of my holoprograms or something. But real."

"Did it attack you?"

"It started to, but I stunned it with my phaser. Or I tried to. I think I fried it."

Realizing what had occurred, B'Elanna sighed. "You couldn't have known. Something about the suns jacked up the phasers' effects."

"I wish I'd known, but I don't know if it would have changed anything."

"Maybe not—"

He singed himself and yelped, cutting off her response. A moment later, the lights flickered on and the console thrummed to life. She kissed his cheek, extremely proud of him and excited to get to work on her own project. He touched her shoulder briefly as he hurried past her.

"Get her here," he whispered. "I'll get her alcove working."

"I'm on it."

* * *

"So, are you ever planning on elaborating?"

Janeway felt a bit more at ease now that temperature had cooled a few degrees. Over the past few hours, Seven had been nearly silent, which had been in accord with her original desire, but she found the quiet hard to maintain for too long. Part of her worried that this may be her last chance to speak with the beautiful blonde, and she wanted to soak in every moment in Seven's presence.

"On?"

"What sort of unique things you're attracted to."

"No."

"Hm?"

"I am not planning on elaborating."

Narrowing her eyes, Janeway turned her attention to Seven. She hoped that a sharp look would reveal something about Seven's attitude, but Seven was an expert at masking her feelings and appearing as if nothing were amiss. They'd spent enough time together that Janeway could sometimes pick up on subtle changes, from the slight furrow of Seven's brow to a tightening of Seven's jaw, but at the moment, Seven was implacably calm.

Frustrated, Janeway grimaced. "Well."

"I have upset you."

"No."

Seven considered the simple word. When she was freshly severed from the Collective, she would have accepted a person's word at face value; the Borg had no reason and no capacity for lying to one another, and she had yet to understand that humans were a more deceptive lot. The more time she spent with Voyager's crew, however, the better her understanding. There were a multitude of reasons to lie, she discovered, although she still wasn't clear on which were acceptable.

Whatever the reason, Janeway was lying to her.

Seven wondered what she'd said to so offend her companion—and if this was an acceptable time to lie as well. She wasn't very imaginative, but she had been cultivating her ability to stretch the truth. Deciding that Janeway's sudden dissonance had to be related to their most current conversation, Seven dove back in.

"You wish to know what I find attractive."

"You're allowed to have your secrets."

"People." Seven waited a moment and then glanced up. When her gaze met Janeway's, her heart beat a bit faster. "People are quite unique, which presents a challenge."

"I see."

Seven couldn't decide if she'd detected a hint of disappointment in Janeway's voice. To remedy the situation, she tried adding a few more personal details, hoping that some form of vulnerability would placate the older woman. "I enjoy my position in astrometrics because the work varies but is, in general, predictable. Interactions with others, however, are difficult, as I am never properly prepared for the response I'll garner." This conversation, she thought, was a prime example.

"Interactions are a little like science. You have a message, and you generate a hypothesis about the proper way to deliver it. The next step is to test that hypothesis, collect results, and evaluate."

Seven thought this was simplifying matters, but she didn't want to chase the argument down that rabbit hole. Instead, she said, "Accepting that to be true, every person I have interacted with has much more experience than I, and thus more results to draw on when generating future hypotheses."

"The Doctor gave you a few shortcuts, didn't he?"

"They proved moderately successful, but as a hologram, he is almost as limited as I."

"He's come a long way from how he used to be."

"Do you think he has survived our descent?"

"I prefer to think he has," Janeway replied with a small frown. The thought that they might be without a doctor and without an emergency medical hologram so far from home was chilling—Tom Paris, for all he was good-natured and possessing of bedside manner, simply wasn't sufficient when there were heavy casualties.

"I prefer to think that as well. He has become a friend."

Janeway had her suspicions that the connection between Seven and the Doctor was deeper than friendship, but the very idea that Seven could be involved with someone else made her grit her teeth in displeasure. She had no claim on Seven, she reminded herself. If Seven wished to pursue something romantic with the Doctor, she had no right to complain.

"I'm glad. Do you still feel isolated among the crew?"

"Having work to complete makes me feel more a part of our Collective."

"That's not quite what I was asking."

Seven's ocular implant shifted up her forehead. "There are few people who feel comfortable addressing me outside of a working environment."

"Other than the Doctor, do you feel that you have friends?"

"I have studied several accounts of human friendship and compared those details with the information the Borg collected on platonic relationships in assimilated species. I do not believe any of my acquaintances qualify."

"I thought of myself as your friend."

Seven was silent for several moments; she didn't want to claim Janeway as her friend, she decided, because that would categorize the stockier woman in a way that didn't ring quite true. Janeway was much more important to her than a friend, but she couldn't admit that. Naomi had once dubbed her a 'best friend,' but she had yet to do proper research regarding what the duties of such a person were. She supposed that Janeway might occupy that position for her; however, she felt the terminology still too foreign to confidently apply.

"You are."

She wondered who Janeway's best friend was. Without expending much energy, she narrowed the crew manifest to either Commander Chakotay or Lt. Commander Tuvok, both of whom were commonly in the captain's company. They were both privy to Janeway's thoughts—Seven abruptly cut her thoughts off as her throat tightened. The physiological reaction puzzled her, even as she easily identified the emotion as jealousy. There was nothing to be jealous of, she thought.

Eager to move away from this topic that seemingly generated unpredictable, negative emotions, she brushed the feelings aside for future analysis and said, "The weather is finally becoming temperate."

Janeway bit back a laugh; she was minutely aware that Seven had become uncomfortable with their previous dialogue, although she couldn't deduce why, but she hadn't expected Seven to default to the most basic of all small talk.

"Yes, thankfully. My internal clock isn't quite keeping up with this planet and its suns, but I'm assuming we're closing in on some sort of nightfall."

"According to my chronometer, the time is currently eighteen hundred fifty-two."

"Earlier than I thought, but…" Janeway trailed off; she'd never been one for this sort of conversation, and she hadn't practiced the necessary skills for sustaining one. She much preferred the deeper sort of talks she usually had with Seven—ones that required her to evaluate her humanity and critique aspects of herself. Those conversations were challenges, on which Janeway thrived.

Striving to finish Janeway's thought, Seven said, "Due to the exertion of the day, you may feel more exhausted than you normally might under other conditions."

"Right."

Janeway hadn't felt this awkward since she was a young woman whose interest had been in chemical interactions rather than personal ones. There was just something about Seven that kept her off-balance. Although she felt comfortable in Seven's presence, she also felt pressure to be better than she was—as if Seven's valuing of her work was most important.

"Are you tired?"

"A little." With a small sigh of defeat, Janeway nodded and made the decision she thought Seven was angling their conversation toward. She'd prefer to rest while nobody but Seven was around rather than later, when there was a chance crew members might need her guidance. She watched Seven and hoped that nothing occurred while she was unconscious, as she didn't think she'd be able to forgive herself should Seven encounter danger. "I'm going to nap a bit. Wake me if you need or hear anything."

"Yes, Captain."

Seven realized she had failed somehow as the conversation ended; if she had performed adequately, she might still have Janeway's undivided attention. Instead, she had lulled Janeway to sleep. Janeway scooted down to the ground and leaned against the tree trunk, and Seven watched her expression ease as Janeway gradually fell asleep. The fierce woman looked much smaller when she curled against herself, and Seven felt a protective instinct surge through her. She hadn't gotten their conversation correct, but she could definitely provide Janeway a safe environment in which to rest.

Rather than work on her regenerator, she deemed securing the perimeter more essential. She stood and paced to and fro, eyes constantly scanning the environment for signs of life or danger. Every ten or so feet, she cast her gaze on her sleeping companion, checking first to ensure that Janeway's breathing was consistent and normal and then wasting a moment observing Janeway's unguarded features. Without a command mask to harden her face, Janeway looked more akin to a child than a spaceship captain. The vulnerability was breathtaking, and Seven wondered if she would ever again see this side of her captain.

She paused as she noticed that her thought hadn't been hyperbole—she was indeed struggling to suck air into her lungs. Her human hand lifted to her throat and pawed helplessly at something that wasn't there, as if an invisible force was choking her. The panic she felt derived from the lack of oxygen, she finally figured out; a wave of nanoprobes took over her response and guided her to the ground. If she relaxed, she could get enough oxygen to perpetuate her existence, and she could form rudimentary words.

Hating to disturb Janeway and knowing she ought to deactivate without unduly distressing her captain, Seven still couldn't stop herself. If this was the end of her life, she didn't want to spend her final moments alone. She sputtered out a raspy, "…help…"

* * *

B'Elanna slammed her hand down on the console, and a dozen different expletives darted through her mind. The damn thing refused to do as she requested, and she was on the brink of disassembling and rebuilding the transporter per her own specifications. She'd been close on a number of occasions, but each time, she'd found a small deviation that could scramble the atoms of her target. Although Seven could die without her alcove, B'Elanna had no interest in committing murder and hastening Seven's demise.

"You okay?" Tom appeared at her shoulder. His work in Cargo Bay Two hadn't taken long, especially after Chakotay's crew had flooded the ship's interior. While he was ever cognizant of how urgent their mission was, he also felt a semblance of relief knowing that he was toiling alone. The thought of fixing everything himself was overwhelming, but now Voyager's future felt a little brighter.

"I can't do it."

"You can," he corrected. While he respected B'Elanna's brilliance, he also recognized that she sometimes worked so hard on a problem that she missed something important. He, too, was prone to such an issue—although he was much more at risk as he had a tendency to let new tasks gobble up his attention, whereas B'Elanna only lost herself in something particularly difficult. "What's giving you a problem?"

She pressed her middle finger and her thumb to her temples and closed her eyes. This felt hopeless, but Tom was creative—he may see a solution she was too stressed to have noticed. As she explained every step she had taken thus far, he folded his arms over his chest and sorted through the possibilities.

"So the problem isn't the solar activity but the crash."

B'Elanna stared blankly at him. "I've been working around the interference, but I hadn't stopped to consider that. I can't believe it—"

"Worry about it later. For now, just get that transporter working."

* * *

Janeway awoke slowly at Seven's gasped plea. Her dream had been quite pleasant, and despite only resting for twenty or so minutes, she felt refreshed. She yawned and rubbed the corners of her eyes, unaware that anything was amiss. After she sat upright, however, she couldn't miss Seven's crumpled form in the dirt in front of her. She scrambled forward, not bothering to stand in her hurry to reach Seven's side.

"Seven, what—"

"Implants," Seven managed. She was shocked to feel moisture on her face, as she didn't think she had the energy to produce tears. Her confusion dissipated as her eyes focused on Janeway, and she noted that she was not the one crying. She wished she could lift her arm to brush the tears from Janeway's cheeks. She was apprehensive about deactivation, but she was more upset that she had caused Janeway sadness.

"Try to hold on." Janeway wiped at her tears, ashamed that she'd let her strength lapse. If she had been awake when Seven fell, she knew she would have been more emotionally prepared; as the situation stood, however, she still felt as though she were dreaming. "Lt. Torres will have the transporter up and running any minute now, I know it. You will continue to live, and that's an order."

Seven managed a weak smile, but she decided that saving her breath was worth more than verbally assenting. She closed her eyes to better conserve energy and obey Janeway's order. Her nanoprobes worked hard at keeping her body alive, so she stopped fighting to maintain control. Her best shot, she realized was in letting go of control.

She recalled how Janeway had initially stripped her of control and thought fondly of how far both of them had come since the moment in the brig. She'd felt broken then, but her lack of control had been to her benefit. If she hadn't stopped fighting, she never would have experienced the wealth of emotions swelling in her chest. She never would have learned love or cared as deeply as she did. Now, however, she didn't think anything good would result from her giving in. She was just too tired, she thought, and there was no fight left. She relaxed as Janeway pulled gently on her shoulders and tugged her into a warm embrace. Despite her weakness, she managed to grip one of Janeway's wrists, and the connection served as an anchor.

Janeway frowned down at her charge and wondered just when she'd lost control of the situation. While she recognized that she had been impotent from the start regarding Seven's current degradation, she had no idea when she'd begun caring this deeply for the other woman. The idea that Seven might die in the coming minutes tore at her emotional core.

Until this moment, she'd thought of herself as an island of sorts, but she was rapidly discovering that she was a peninsula, connected to the crew through her attachment to Seven. There were regulations regarding a captain's involvement with a crew member—nothing restricted such a relationship, but she could not impair the ship's function. She needed to isolate herself, she realized, as she would sacrifice most anything in that moment to prolong Seven's life even a few hours longer. This was a weakness, and she was simply lucky that what she felt for Seven hadn't been exploited.

"My favorite part of Earth is autumn," she murmured, trailing her hand along Seven's jaw. "Where I grew up, the leaves turned the most beautiful colors you've ever seen when the weather got colder, and my mom would make spiced apple cider." She paused for a moment when her voice felt too thick to continue. Her hand, however, continued its repetitive journey, as if Seven would slip away the moment she stopped. "I'm sure she'll make you some when we get home. She'll like you. It's hard not to. You'll like her, too, I bet. And my sister.

"She's feistier than I am. To be honest, she's part of the reason I am who I am. Without her, I'd probably still be stuck mourning the past instead of looking to the future. Most of the crew is intimidated by me, I know that, and most people I know on Earth are as well—but Phoebe was never afraid to kick my butt and shake some sense into me—"

Janeway stuttered to a stop when Seven's grasp on her wrist slackened. She'd hoped her talking would keep Seven in the moment and away from deactivation, but nothing seemed to be going according to plan lately. Making a split second decision, she bent down and pressed their lips together—she couldn't let Seven go, especially if she hadn't tried to fulfill some aspect of Seven's bucket list. Beyond that, she wanted Seven to feel safe and cared for, no matter what. For several seconds, Seven's lips moved firmly with her mouth. After a moment, however, Seven went slack in her arms.

* * *

Finishing her latest and final tweak, B'Elanna ran a system scan. After Tom helped her realize what she'd missed, she'd worked with a fervor she hadn't known she was capable of. That paid off when she read the report and determined that she had the power to complete one emergency transport. Uncaring that she might damage the system further, she scanned the planet for Seven's comm badge. The precious seconds that small task took grated on her patience, and the moment the transporter locked on Seven's coordinates, she initiated the beam. She confirmed a successful transfer and then sprinted from the room.

Dodging past other crew members who roamed the ship cleaning debris, she hurried down the bulkheads. The ship had been trashed, she noted. She hadn't paid much attention when Tom had initially guided her through. The poor ship had taken a beating and would take a good deal of effort to fix. Nothing in the Delta Quadrant was easy, she thought as she made her way to Cargo Bay Two, where Tom was waiting. Even her relationship with him was constantly tested by the dangerous environment.

"Well?"

Tom stood by the Borg alcove, where Seven dangled limply. He wished he had better news to give her, but Seven's prognosis didn't seem positive. She had a heavy frame, and he had struggled against the planet's natural gravity to get her into her alcove to start her regeneration cycle. "I don't know. She wasn't breathing when she landed here, and she couldn't stand on her own. I got the alcove to accept her, but I don't know."

B'Elanna brushed past him and tapped a few commands into the panel by Seven's side. The information she brought up was neither positive nor negative—if the Doctor were around, he could have provided more in-depth feedback, but the panel could only confirm that a drone was positioned for regeneration. Even if this worked, B'Elanna was mildly worried about serious, long-term damage. "It's trying to charge her."

"We'll just have to wait and see." He set a hand on her shoulder.

She leaned her cheek against his hand and nodded. Understanding that standing around would be wasting valuable time, she commanded the computer to alert her to any changes in Seven's wellbeing and shifted off the dais. For the time being, she needed to restore the transporter permanently, so they could recover the rest of their wayward crew.

* * *

Janeway watched the sparkle that signaled Seven's transport and let out a dry sob. Feeling empty and alone without Seven, she wrapped her arms around her midsection. With a heavy heart, she considered the possibilities; if only Lt. Torres had succeeded a minute or two earlier, she thought. She backed up against the tree trunk, sucked in several deep breaths, and began to compartmentalize everything that had happened over the past few hours. She was alone and her crew was in danger, so she tamped down on her feelings, which threatened to overwhelm her.

She might be waiting for rescue, she rationalized, but when she was transported back to Voyager, she'd be expected to take control of the situation. Chakotay had done well in returning the crew to the ship, but she wouldn't let him remain in command if she was able. She would need to rely on the numbness spreading through her veins if she was to make difficult decisions in her crew's best interest. Within ten minutes, she was fairly certain she wouldn't feel anything more—at least not until she was securely locked into her personal quarters once they were back on their way toward the Alpha Quadrant.

She couldn't afford to shut down like she had after the death of her father or during Voyager's trip through the dark expanse of nothingness, even if that's all she wanted. This wasn't fair, she thought. She hadn't signed onto a multi-year expedition into deep space, where the burden of captaincy was permanently pressing down on her with no way to escape. Any other person on the crew would be allotted the proper mourning period to deal with his or her grief—but she was an exception.

She rubbed at her eyes and acknowledged her fate. She had agreed to this the moment she'd accepted the fourth pip on her collar. Before this point, she had thought herself strong enough to conquer all obstacles, and she'd known with total certainty that she'd get her crew back to the Alpha Quadrant. Now, however, she felt painfully and awfully human.


	4. Resurrection

4: Resurrection

"His loss is regrettable." Tuvok stood with his chin tilted up and his attention focused in the distance rather than on the body in stasis near his feet. That he was responsible for the ensign's passing weighed heavily on him, and he was grateful for several decades of training to keep his emotional response in check. In this situation, he could not afford to let his judgment be clouded by anything, least of all grief or guilt.

"He was a good officer."

Unlike the lieutenant commander, Chakotay examined Ensign Bronowski with curious eyes. He had no personal attachment to the young man, but he mourned the loss nonetheless. To turn his gaze away would be to dishonor the ensign's memory and hard work. Were they in space, they would eject the ensign into the cool embrace of space, but he wasn't sure what protocol to follow while planet-bound. He knew the loss would strike the crew hard, and something needed to be planned to give everyone the chance to remember and move on.

"He followed his orders until the end."

Chakotay swiveled his attention to the crew, who milled around nervously. Most had thought of this as an adventure, not unlike they could experience on the holodeck. Seeing a dead comrade, however, brought an air of gravity and an undercurrent of anxiety. He wished Janeway were present; he was a good leader in terms of making decisions, but he lacked the trait that allowed Janeway to understand and motivate her crew without force or fear.

"We have yet to determine what attacked." Tuvok met Chakotay's gaze evenly. "Lt. Paris discovered and incapacitated a robot near the sickbay. We may glean information from its systems."

"I'll get someone on that."

"Now that repairs have begun, I recommend sealing the airlock and taking command on the bridge until the captain can be transported."

Chakotay sent a silent prayer to his ancestors to guide the ensign's spirit and nodded. When they retreated from the entrance, Tuvok ordered a nearby junior lieutenant to shut the door before continuing her work. Satisfied, they headed down the bulkhead and up a Jefferies tube; although power was slowly being restored to the ship, the turbolifts included, nobody was brave enough yet to risk getting stuck. As the acting leader, Chakotay had no interest in getting locked away with the next highest-ranking officer.

He took the lead and clambered up the ladder. By the time they reached the bridge, he was sweating and winded-Tuvok was watching him mildly. Despite Tuvok's bland expression, Chakotay got the feeling that the dark-skinned man was judging his physical fitness and finding him wanting. He knew he wasn't as limber and strong as he used to be and resolved to shed a few pounds as soon as they were back on their way home.

While Chakotay went to the captain's chair, Tuvok took his place at the rear security station. A few flicks of his fingers shifted the view screen back, revealing the wild jungles beyond. There were still hiccups in the system, he noted, but as the temperature dropped, so too did the solar interference. He wouldn't draw firm conclusions yet, but he hypothesized that the more intense the sun, the worse off their electronic devices, and vice versa. He would monitor the variables before reporting his findings, as he knew Janeway would be more interested in facts than theories.

Noting that someone was working on the communications system, he tapped his comm badge and waited several moments for the familiar tone that signaled the device's readiness for his message. Because there was silence, he diverted his attention to updating his knowledge of the ship's status. The crew worked hard on restoring lost functionality, but there was more damage than could easily be fixed. Voyager's problems, he determined, needed a surgery rather than a sweep of a dermal regenerator.

"Report."

Tuvok responded succinctly as his eyes roved the console. There were several dark emotions about Chakotay's leadership brewing just beneath his iron Vulcan control, but he remained impassive. That a former Maquis had taken the position he was to fill still rankled him from time to time, especially given Chakotay's disdain for Janeway's orders, but he valued a smoothly running ship more than he cared about the vector of his career. As long as Chakotay worked in the crew's best interest, Tuvok would do as he was told.

Chakotay nodded and considered the information. With main power coming back online quickly, they could initiate intensive repairs-being grounded allowed them to divert energy to the replicators without rationing, so they could create necessary parts and tools. However, given Voyager's jagged angle, he wasn't sure they could reach every area in need of repair. If they were in space, someone could go on a spacewalk to attend to each nook and cranny of the massive ship; here, there were bits of the ship embedded in the ground and no good way to reach them.

They'd need thrusters back online, he realized. Cranking their engines and wrenching themselves free was going to be essential, and then they could land once more on Voyager's struts for easier access. Until then, the crew could continue cleaning and determining just what needed attention.

"The communications system will be back online shortly," Tuvok stated, breaking through Chakotay's thoughts. "We will be able to contact the captain for further orders."

"I sent Ensign Hoffman to help B'Elanna with the transporters. She knows the systems best."

"They are hardly an ideal partnership."

Chakotay laughed, aware that the shrill-voiced ensign often grated on B'Elanna's nerves; still, they had created miracles together in the past. "I have faith they'll be able to overlook personal differences for the sake of rescuing the captain."

Tuvok arched an eyebrow silently and returned to his overview. He supposed that Lt. Torres had indeed matured a good deal over the past half a decade, but there was still much to be desired in terms of her control over her emotions. He had to admit that he no longer chafed at the thought of her inclusion on away missions, which spoke to her ability to be professional when necessary.

He noted Neelix's presence in the mess hall, and his stomach clenched instinctively. While he appreciated Neelix's contribution, his digestive system preferred replicated meals he programmed himself. Neelix was a boon, he reminded himself, no matter how grating.

While Tuvok perused his console, the Talaxian in question swept the floor of his mess hall madly. The frenetic movement helped to distract him from his thoughts, which otherwise swirled endlessly around Ensign Bronowski. The young man-really, he seemed more like a boy than a man, if Neelix were any judge-had died, and that death was on his conscious. He gripped his broom tighter and pumped his arms a faster.

If he hadn't stopped to examine a particularly interesting root, then that shiny creature wouldn't have attacked them. The ensign wouldn't have died.

The moment he came aboard Voyager, he'd vowed to help the captain in anyway he could. He'd done his best over the years to contribute more than his fair share and shoulder as much burden as he could, so that this ship and her crew could complete a safe journey to a world that was alien to him. There were times when he'd done more harm than good-but this was the first time when his actions had led to such a grievous harm. He didn't deserve to be a member of this crew

"Neelix?"

The golden-maned man's head jerked up; he hadn't noticed anyone entering his domain, and he certainly didn't feel like entertaining. Still, the crew expected a certain pizzazz from him, so he donned his most welcoming smile and spread his arms.

"Tom Paris! Can I get you something to eat? Pickings are a little slim since most of our supplies got a little dusty in the crash, but I'm sure I can make you something."

Tom shook his head. "I just came by to check on you."

"Which one of us is Chief Morale Officer?" Neelix managed a cheerful laugh as he guided Tom to a table that he dragged up from the floor.

Rescuing a chair as well, Tom took a seat. "You. Believe me, I have no interest in taking your position."

Neelix wondered if that was because his position was a hollow title-something that the captain allowed to stroke his ego but didn't actually deem necessary to the ship's functionality-or if Tom was just trying to make conversation. That poor ensign was dead.

He pushed the intruding thought away and folded his hands over his stomach. "I have a feeling there's going to be quite a call soon for the Morale Officer. Being stranded like this is hard on people."

"That's for sure. At least for now we've all got jobs to do. But I've seen the damage, Neelix. This isn't something that's going to get fixed overnight. Voyager's in rough shape."

"Nothing the captain can't handle."

"B'Elanna's working on getting the transporter back online permanently. Then we'll see what the captain has to say about all of this."

"I have faith in her." Neelix kept his tone chipper, even as he doubted Janeway would still have faith in him. "She'll get us ship shape in no time at all."

Tom considered Neelix's enthusiasm and smiled. He'd come by between duties because he'd thought the Talaxian might have been having a rough time, but apparently, Neelix was more resilient than he expected. Well, that was for the best. Despite having good intentions, Tom wasn't sure how he would have cheered Neelix up, other than clapping a hand on Neelix's shoulder and professing confidently that things would get better.

"You've made a believer out of me."

"Are you sure you're not hungry?"

"Positive." Tom stood and set his hand on Neelix's shoulder. He squeezed gently and smiled. "I'm glad you're doing okay. I was worried-"

"Oh, don't waste your energy on me." Neelix gripped Tom's hand with his own. He appreciated the support and was heartened by the fact that Tom cared about him. As he was a long way from home, he had come to greatly value the true friendships he'd formed. Perhaps, if he wasn't feeling any better in a few days, he'd rely on Tom for a conversation. With the current state of the ship, he couldn't waste Tom's time, however.

"You're not a waste. But, if you are doing okay, then I should really get back to work. B'Elanna and I'll be back later on-so be sure to cook up something good."

"Will do, Mr. Paris."

Tom lifted his hand in parting as he left the mess hall and strode down the bulkhead. Things were still broken, he noted, but the crew was making quick work of the debris that used to be everywhere. Most everything was getting deposited in the replicators, which recycled the broken parts into new ones. At least those hadn't gotten too damaged, he thought. As much as he had grown to like Neelix as a person, he had yet to fully accept Neelix's food into his life. The Talaxian meant well, but he insisted on adding personal touches to every recipe; while Tom could admire such an adventurous spirit, his taste buds were more pedestrian.

He regretted telling Neelix they'd be back for a meal, but he wanted to check in again later. Sometimes distress took a while to set in, and he knew how deeply Neelix cared for the crew. A loss like Bronowski would hit the man hard, especially because Neelix had been there for both Bronowski's injury and death. Tom remembered the hollow feeling that had taken over him when his questionable decision had resulted in the deaths of his fellow crewmen. Neelix was much less culpable for what happened to Bronowski but much more openly sensitive.

He entered the transporter room and paused to watch his wife argue with Ensign Hoffman. B'Elanna was stocky to Hoffman's lean and tall, but the half-Klingon made up for the size discrepancy with her temper and attitude. When her frustration wasn't aimed at him, Tom could really appreciate how powerful his wife was when she was upset.

"If we do that, then we risk frying the entire power grid," Hoffman stated, her higher pitched voice making B'Elanna's eyes narrow.

"Captain Janeway is stuck out there. The longer we wait, the greater the chance she'll run into the thing that killed Bronowski."

Hoffman winced; if Tom recalled correctly, Hoffman was often in Bronowski's company. B'Elanna's comment wasn't meant maliciously, he was sure, but she'd definitely struck a nerve. Before the situation could escalate, he cleared his throat.

"Sorry to interrupt."

"You're not interrupting," Hoffman spoke quickly. "I was about to suggest a break anyway."

As Hoffman left the room, Tom cocked a curious eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

B'Elanna grimaced and leaned against the console. She felt like she did when the Maquis had first integrated with Voyager-there were too many restrictions on what she could do, and although she had a viable solution, Starfleet was standing in the way. Over the years, she'd come to appreciate, if not understand, Janeway's stark adherence to the guiding principles, but the stress on her shoulders shortened her temper.

"It's fine."

"You can talk to me, y'know."

She could, she realized, but she probably wouldn't. Being married to him didn't erase the majority of her life, during which she kept her own counsel and counted on only herself. Even with the Maquis, she hated relying on others, who inevitably let her down in some way. Under Captain Janeway, she'd gained a bit of trust in the system, but she'd never once questioned the value of her own self-efficacy.

"I can," she allowed.

"But you won't."

"I appreciate the help you gave me earlier, but I don't think that chatting about my tender feelings right now is going to solve anything."

He shrugged. "So don't talk about your feelings. Tell me about this idea of yours."

"There's a Maquis trick that would bring the transporters back online within an hour, but Voyager's systems are a lot more advanced than the Val Jean," she said, naming the Maquis ship that had been destroyed in their initial foray into the Delta Quadrant. "What worked with our old system is a bit of a crapshoot here, but I think the idea's got potential. I'd have to tweak a few things, but…"

"But?"

"But Hoffman doesn't want to do something that's not Starfleet approved. She thinks the risk to Voyager's systems is too great, and that we'd be better off doing this the slow way."

"I'm not agreeing with her, but she does have a point. If you fry something, it could set you back farther than where you are now."

She growled and stalked away from him. "Doesn't anyone trust my abilities?"

"I do trust you." He followed her and set a wary hand on her arm. When she didn't round on him, he pulled her to his chest. "I just want to make sure you're not letting your worry for the captain get in the way of doing what's right for Voyager. You know she'd want us to take care of the ship and the largest portion of the crew-not throw everything away on saving her."

"She'd do the same for any one of us," she replied with no small amount of bitterness in her tone.

"Well, that's her decision as captain. When you're captain of your own vessel, you can make that call, too."

She snorted at the idea. "Me? A captain? No thanks."

"I don't know, B'Elanna. I think you'd make a pretty good boss." He grinned as his ploy worked, and her mood brightened.

As she picked her tricorder up once more, she considered the outlandish suggestion. She finally settled on a satisfactory reason to reject his claim: "I'm abrasive, Tom. We both know it."

"I like how you boss me around," he teased. "And anyway, haven't you whipped Engineering into shape?"

"That's different. Engineers understand."

"I suppose we wouldn't want to doom your poor Chief Engineer anyway. The poor person would have to deal with you spending all your time with the warp core."

She flushed and nudged him with her elbow. "Don't you have something better to do than distract me?"

"I don't think so."

"Tom, the ship is still-"

"I know, I know." He kissed her cheek and headed for the door. "I'll see you tonight."

When he was gone, she turned her attention back to her work. Although his interruption had slowed her work, she was glad he'd stopped by. Another moment with Hoffman and she might have done something regrettable. She knew she ought to rein her temper in, as Hoffman wasn't the reason she was frustrated but merely an easy target. She felt useless, and when she felt useless, she got angry. She rubbed her temples and wished not for the first time that negative emotions weren't so innate for her.

She took one more quiet moment to push her bad feelings away and then resumed her work. When Hoffman returned ten minutes later, she had a viable solution that would satisfy Hoffman's concerns and speed the process up. She was finally learning to effectively compromise, she thought. With Hoffman's help, she reconfigured the wiring, rigged the console back together, and sent out a scan for Janeway's comm badge. Once they'd located Janeway, B'Elanna nodded at Hoffman, who began running her hands along the console with the ease of years of practice and training.

For several moments, B'Elanna held her breath and stared at the scuffed dais where Janeway would hopefully materialize. When the moments stretched longer than she could bear, she turned to demand answers from Hoffman, whose gaze was fixated on her work. Before B'Elanna could complain, the sound of a successful transport filled the air, and B'Elanna whipped around once more.

"Captain."

Janeway was on the ground, her knees tugged to her chest. On realizing where she was, she sat straighter and tilted her chin up. "A little warning next time would be appreciated, ladies."

Hoffman bent her head respectfully. "Sorry, Captain."

Unperturbed, B'Elanna strode to Janeway's side and extended her hand. "You've definitely looked better."

"Has the Doctor been activated?"

"Not yet. We've been fiddling with the mobile emitter, but it doesn't seem like he was able to transfer his program before the crash. We have to get the main computer system up and running before we can activate him. And there's the additional problem of the holo-emitters."

Janeway sighed. "I'll need detailed reports on the condition of the ship as soon as possible."

"Of course."

"Where's Commander Chakotay?"

"On the bridge with Tuvok."

"Turbolifts?"

"Up and running, but I recommend the Jefferies tubes for now. A few ensigns have gotten stuck."

Fantastic, Janeway thought. She hadn't expected so many problems on returning to Voyager, but she supposed that thus far everything she'd been told was fixable. "Very well. Will you be able to use the transporters to pick up stray members of the crew?"

"We're working on enhancing our range right now, but yes, we should be able to successfully transport the crew back within the next few hours."

"Keep me updated."

"One other thing, Captain…" B'Elanna fidgeted uncomfortably. "We have had one casualty so far. Ensign Bronowski."

Janeway's posture snapped from formal and stiff to ramrod straight. "What happened?"

"Something shot him, but I wasn't there," she replied with a helpless shrug of her shoulders. "Tuvok was, though."

"Thank you, Lt. Torres. And the rest of the crew?"

B'Elanna glanced surreptitiously at Hoffman before answering. She had a feeling Janeway was inquiring specifically about a certain crew member, but she didn't want to make Janeway uncomfortable. "We don't know how Seven's doing. She's in her alcove in Cargo Bay Two, but there's no news on if she's recovering. Not yet, anyway."

Although she wanted to know more about Seven's condition, Janeway realized there were more important stakes at play. Limping heavily, she struggled to the door and wished the turbolifts were functional. Climbing the tubes in this state was not going to be easy, but she had a job to do.

"I'll be on the bridge."

"Would you like a site-to-site transport?"

Janeway paused; the transporters should be used for bringing crewmen safely on board-but she couldn't resist abusing her power in this one instance. She nodded curtly, and Hoffman immediately complied.

Her arrival drew Chakotay's attention, and his face split into a wide grin. "Captain on the bridge."

The formality was a joke under normal circumstances, but she could tell he was honestly glad to have her back. She wobbled to her chair and sat down; the lack of pressure on her leg felt wonderful, and she made a mental note to ensure the Doctor was brought back online as soon as possible. She couldn't be the only one with an injury, especially given how bumpy their descent had been, and they would be able to complete repairs more efficiently if all crewmen were well.

"Report."

"One hundred and three crew members are current aboard Voyager," Tuvok reported. "While power has been returned in several key locations, there are still widespread problems. Teams have been assigned to investigate the causes."

"Any results yet?"

"None."

"Keep me updated."

"Of course."

"Torres mentioned that an ensign was killed?" She eyed Tuvok, curious about his take on things. Unlike her other senior officers, he was essentially unflappable, and she knew he would provide her with a detailed, unflinching account of what transpired, rather than dancing around a delicate subject like the others might.

He dipped his head. "Mr. Neelix and I were transported to a mountain nearby, and once we reached the ground, we traveled in Voyager's direction. En route, we were joined by Ensign Bronowski. Approximately six kilometers into our journey, something in the jungle opened fire, and Ensign Bronowski was hit. Despite our best efforts to sustain his life, we could not provide the required medical assistance."

"Did you see what was out there?"

"There was a glint of metal, but I am unable to report at this time as to the shooter's identity or species."

Janeway rested her forehead in her hand and her elbow on the arm of her chair. Being stranded alone on an empty planet was daunting enough, but now, there were armed individuals to add a new layer of stress. With one hundred and three persons on board, that meant that forty-two individuals were still outside and potentially in danger. She hoped B'Elanna was hurrying with the remaining transports, as she'd feel much more at ease once they were secured inside Voyager.

"Do we know what time it is?"

"That system was deemed low priority and has not yet been restored."

Chakotay set a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently to get her attention. "It feels late, though, doesn't it?"

She met his gaze and was glad for his support. Over the years, they'd had their differences and nearly come to blows, but he was vital to her success. "It does."

"Tuvok and I have this in hand. You should rest."

Being injured was skewing her judgment, she decided, because she couldn't resist accepting the offer. When Chakotay reached out, she grabbed his hand and let him hoist her to her feet. He guided her to the door of her ready room and waited in the doorway to make sure she reached the couch along the far wall.

"It'll just be a nap," she warned him. "Wake me up if anything happens."

His smile suggested that he didn't believe her first statement at all, and she had to admit the strain of the day was catching up to her. Although she'd managed to nab a few moments of rest, nothing compared with collapsing against a cushioned surface in a safe place. She fell asleep quickly and dreamed of darkness.

* * *

Naomi woke up with a crick in her neck. She was tired, covered in dirt, and thoroughly exhilarated. Once she'd realized that nothing was going to hurt her, the fear she'd experienced on first landing alone had dissipated, and all that remained was how awesome getting to explore without adult supervision was. If her mom had been around, she wouldn't have found half the things she had, she thought with a wry grin. There was a shiny stone in her pocket that she couldn't wait to present to her mother as proof of how independent she could be.

A small part of her was worried she wouldn't see her mom again, but she was pretty sure she remembered how to get out of the tunnels. She probably shouldn't have run away from Ensign Kim, she thought, but he was super bossy, and she could manage on her own. Even Icheb knew that; he hadn't tried to tell her what to do at all.

Yawning, she got to her feet and tried to straighten her dress. She'd slept for a long time, although she didn't know how long exactly. If she had Borg parts like Seven, then she'd know. Seven was so efficient, and Naomi was a little jealous. Working hard wouldn't garner her the same results as Seven. Naomi sighed, grimaced, and began stumbling through the tunnels once more. A faint buzzing reached her ears, and she followed the noise through the dark.

She came to a halt when she spotted a robot drilling into the mountain. It didn't look dangerous, but she knew better than to interrupt people while they were doing something that might be important. Some crewmen on Voyager were understanding of her curiosity, but most were impatient with her interruptions. She didn't want to chance making the robot angry, especially not when she had so many questions, so she sat quietly and watched.

Eventually, its motor ground to a halt, and it swiveled around. A flash of light skittered over her skin, and she grinned. The Doctor scanned her like that, too, but he almost never found anything wrong with her, even when her mom was worried. It beeped at her, so she beeped back, her shrill, young voice almost reaching the same pitch.

"My name's Naomi," she offered, extending her hand.

The robot remained still, its lights still tracking along her skin. It beeped again, and its tone lilted up at the end. She wondered if it had asked her a question.

Uncertain but game, she said, "I'm not dangerous, if that's what you're asking. But I might be a little lost. Have you seen others like me?"

The light shifted to the wall behind her head, and the robot rolled past her. Before it could begin drilling anew, she tried to mimic the noise it had made before. The beeping attracted its attention, so she produced the noise again. She didn't know what she was saying to it, but it was definitely interested. When she fell silent, it beeped at her and zipped down a tunnel. It reappeared a moment later to beep again, and she got the vague idea that she should follow it. She darted after it, grateful she'd gotten some sleep before this point, otherwise she'd have been tired.

It led her through the tunnels to a gaping cavern much larger than the one she'd shared with Icheb earlier. There were at least fourteen robots milling about, and none but her guide seemed to even notice her presence. She stayed as close to her friend as she could because she was afraid of getting rolled over. The robots looked heavy, she thought warily, and she was quite small. If one collided with her, she'd be flatter than the lackluster pancakes Neelix sometimes made.

Her friend stopped moving abruptly, and she ran into its back. Stepping back, she rubbed her horns and wondered what was happening. As soon as her friend uttered a series of shrieking whistles and beeps, all motion in the cavern halted. The robots didn't have humanoid eyes, but she got the feeling they were staring at her nonetheless.

"Hello," she ventured as bravely as she could. "I'm Naomi Wildman."

She crouched low to the ground and dragged her finger through the dirt. She wasn't too good at art, but she managed to outline Voyager. She pointed to the dirt-picture a few times and asked where it was; all around her, the robots beeped and buzzed and shifted about. Hoping that this would work on the masses as well as her friend, she mimicked their noises again and pointed at the drawing.

Her friend approached, so she jabbed her finger in the dirt and said, "Voyager." She touched her chest. "Naomi."

When her fingers brushed its hard outer shell, it rolled back an inch. She supposed these robots had never been touched-or at least, it must have been a really long time. It drew closer once it realized she wasn't going to hurt it. She repeated the action of touching her chest and saying her name. This time, when she touched its chest, it remained in place.

"Nay-oh-me."

A smile curled along her lips. "Yes! Exactly!"

"Nay-oh-me." The robot beeped to its fellows. "Nay-oh-me."

"Do you know where Voyager is?"

"Nay-oh-me."

"Yes, that's my name." She folded her arms over her chest and felt frustration bubbling in her belly. "Can't you say anything else?"

"Nay-oh-me."

"Oh! You're impossible!"

Stomping her foot, she glared at her friend. It was supposed to help her, not say her name over and over. Angering her further, the rest of the robots in the room began chanting the three syllables, even as they turned back to their work. One sliced through her drawing of Voyager on its way across the room, and she frowned deeply at the slight. She didn't want to cry and look like a baby, but she could pout with gusto. She hoped Icheb was having better luck and more fun than she was.

Unfortunately, Icheb found himself following Ensign Kim through the tunnels with no particular direction in mind. Icheb preferred Borg efficiency and had already worked out a more thorough means of exploring the many areas of the mountain. His suggestion that they apply a search pattern was met with a scowl, so he had made no further attempts at curtailing Harry's wandering.

"I think I see something up ahead."

Icheb doubted the veracity of this claim, but he had promised to help Harry. With that in mind, he dutifully followed the other man forward. "I recommend we rest-"

"We rested not that long ago," Harry responded, his voice firm. Half of leadership was sounding right; if he had enough confidence, the rest would follow. "We can keep going for now."

"Aye, sir." Despite his agreeable manner, Icheb was exhausted. The short break they'd taken before was not enough, and he knew he needed to sleep soon. He no longer regenerated due to the transference of his cortical implant to Seven, but he had easily adapted to the humanoid process of sleep. Much more of this, and he wouldn't be able to function within normal parameters.

"Are you able to get any readings on our surroundings?"

"We are deep within the mountain. The mountain itself is comprised of several minerals, including the beryllium in which Captain Janeway was initially interested. There are no life forms in our immediate area."

Icheb noted that he wasn't completely able to keep his frustration from his tone. He feared this meant he was less Borg and more Brunali. While this wasn't inherently problematic, he was just as intrinsically Borg as he was Brunali, and he enjoyed the delicate balance that usually ruled his life. Balance was imperative for order, and he was nothing without order to organize the chaos of his thoughts.

Harry didn't notice his companions feelings, however, as he stopped to press the flat of his palm to a wall. "Is there anyway we could mine any of these minerals?"

"We do not have adequate tools for such an undertaking."

"The captain would have been very pleased…"

"Regardless of her emotional response, we cannot collect materials without the proper tools."

Harry nodded; he knew as much, but he'd just wanted a moment to sigh wistfully. Being with an ex-Borg drone, however, made such exercises difficult, as Icheb didn't seem to understand. Releasing frustration through a minor complaint would likely be deemed inefficient, Harry thought with a snort.

"Right, well, then we might as well keep moving."

"Aye, sir."

* * *

Janeway limped out onto the bridge and eyed the number of crewmen milling around. Most looked busy, but the space was crowded and her nerves frayed. While she slept, someone had fixed the chronometer system, so she knew she'd slept for a good nine hours. Rather than feel refreshed, however, she just felt more tired and strained. She hoped that the holo-emitters had been brought back online as well, as she wanted the Doctor to look at her leg, which was stiff and painful once more.

"Report."

Chakotay fought a yawn as he answered, "We've transported all but three people back to Voyager. There was one fatality other than Ensign Bronowski and two additional casualties."

Janeway tightened her jaw. She hated losing crewmen, and the fact that two lives had been terminated in the last two days was unacceptable. "Who?"

"Crewman Jackson."

"I'm sorry." She made her way to his side and set a hand on his shoulder. Jackson had been a part of his Maquis crew, she knew, so the loss would be keenly felt by him as well. "Do we know what happened?"

"Based on his injuries, we think he was transported too far above ground. He fell and died on impact. His body is in stasis with Ensign Bronowski's."

"And the injuries?"

"Minor. B'Elanna and Vorik repaired the holo-emitters in the sickbay, so the Doctor was able to clean them up. Both are back to active duty."

"Good." She sensed sweet relief in her immediate future, as long as the turbolifts were back. "Which three have not been returned to Voyager?"

"Ensign Kim, Icheb, and Naomi. We haven't been able to locate their comm badges as of yet, but B'Elanna is working on extending the range of our scanners."

She disliked the thought that two children were missing, but she supposed there was little she could do at the moment. "And the 'lifts?"

"Still acting up."

Janeway bit back a disappointed sigh and turned her attention to Tuvok. "Do we have enough power to initiate a site-to-site transport?"

Tuvok regarded her grimly. "We are avoiding transports during the periods of time with high solar activity."

"Very well. I'm going to the sickbay. Commander, you have the bridge until I return. Once I get back, you will both be relieved of duty for the day."

Chakotay frowned. "Are you sure-"

"Commander, once the Doctor fixes my leg, I'll be more than capable. I'll need you both to be rested once Voyager is space-worthy again. I don't want to have to order you to take a break…"

"You won't have to." He lifted a hand and shooed her toward the nearest Jefferies tube. "Do you need any help?"

She probably did, she thought, but she'd be damned if anyone saw her vulnerable like that. She was the captain, and as such, she could manage a few ladders on her own. "I'll be fine. As you were."

Leaving them to their activities, she began the arduous descent to the sickbay. She was glad nobody was trying to use the Jefferies tube she selected, as she moved incredibly slow and rested often-her leg was trying to completely incapacitate her, she determined, but she wouldn't let something as small as leg pain stop her from reaching her goal.

Later than expected, she hobbled into the medical bay and grunted, "Computer, activate E.M.H."

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency." The Doctor frowned while she explained the damage done to her leg, as well as everything that had occurred that might have worsened the situation. When she informed him about the leaf Seven found, her heart twinged painfully. She hadn't checked on Seven, yet, even though she very much wanted to. He huffed and puffed as he led her to a biobed and told her to lay down. "It never ceases to amaze me."

"What's that, Doctor?"

"A few days without a medical professional, and everyone thinks they're a doctor. Did Seven bother to scan this plant for any chemicals that may conflict with human physiology?"

"Our tricorders were non-operational."

He ran the small nub of his medical tricorder along her leg and tutted. "The strained muscles can be fixed quite easily, but you also have a slight hairline fracture that will require minor surgery-due to the delay in treatment and extended use, you've made a small problem much larger."

"My apologies, Doctor."

"Nice to see your sarcasm survived the crash in tact."

"How quickly can you have me mobile again?"

"I've been told not to operate during the day." He frowned at the very thought of someone telling him how to do his job. Still, he supposed others understood this planet and its suns better than he did. "The solar interference causes too high of a risk."

She didn't relish the idea of living with the pain any longer than she had to, but she'd rather have a fixable problem than an operation gone wrong. "Can you give me something for the pain?"

He didn't verbally respond, instead choosing to nestle a hypospray against her neck. The soft whoosh the device released accompanied instantaneous relief. She sagged and closed her eyes.

"This should last until tonight, when I'll be able to operate. That is, of course, as long as you avoid injuring yourself further."

"I'll endeavor not to."

"I'm sure." When she hopped to her feet, he grabbed her arm. "You may no longer feel the pain, but your leg is in no condition for active use."

"I can't just remain here."

Her thoughts skittered to Cargo Bay Two, which was where she truly wanted to head. The Cargo Bay, however, was several decks beneath them, and she didn't think the Doctor would be too pleased with her if she did something as reckless as visiting their resident Borg. Please, she thought, let Seven be okay.

"I suppose not." He slapped his comm badge and contacted Tuvok. Before Janeway could complain, he requested a security detail to escort Janeway to her desired destination.

Fuming, Janeway said, "That was unnecessary, Doctor."

"Actually, it was medically required. Would you like a walking accessory? The replicator has a number of attractive cane designs-"

"That won't be necessary, either."

She stood straighter as her security detail entered the sickbay. They greeted her politely, and Lt. Chattaway had the gall to offer her his arm. Aware of the Doctor's close monitoring, she accepted the small kindness and let them help her back to the bridge. As soon as she was back in her captain's chair, she waved them away to attend to other duties and sent Chakotay and Tuvok to their quarters.

Tilting her console more directly at her chair, she updated herself on current happenings. She trusted her senior officers to tell her the important details, but she also preferred knowing about the aspects of her ship some deemed irrelevant. A good captain knew her ship inside and out, she thought-or so her mentors in the Alpha Quadrant had drilled into her head. She skimmed through the logs, pausing only to stare at the incident report from Jackson's death. His name was a reminder that she had two missives to write when things calmed down. She hoped that number wouldn't increase.

Finally, once she'd checked all major and minor systems, she allowed herself to access the files from Seven's alcove. Her throat was tight as she scrolled through the displayed information. The alcove was supplying power, but there was no sign yet if Seven was recovering. While Seven usually required a few hours a day to regenerate, she'd been in the alcove for nearly half a day and showed no signs of life. Janeway pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling.

This was a fine mess, she considered. Before she severed Seven from the Collective, things had seemed a lot simpler. She had an emotional attachment to her first officer, but that was nothing she couldn't handle. He was handsome and kind, but saying no had been easy and justifiable-they both needed their attention to be undivided through the first few years of their voyage in order to keep the ship safe from the unknown dangers of the Delta Quadrant. If anything had happened between them, the encounter would have been to fulfill a very basic need rather than an insatiable desire, which helped as well.

What she felt for her first officer paled in comparison to the rich, heady emotions clouding her heart and mind at that moment. She wouldn't let her worry get in the way of her responsibilities, but Seven's well being was undeniably important to her. She wouldn't rest easy until she knew whether Seven was functioning-until then, she'd keep herself busy and distracted.

"Torres to Janeway."

Janeway perked up, grateful that someone else was going to help her keep her mind off Cargo Bay Two. "Go ahead."

"I've expanded our scanners as much as we can at the moment, but we still can't find Harry, Naomi, and Icheb."

"Is it possible their comm badges were broken during transport?"

"Yes, which is why I've been running bio scans as well, and I haven't found any humanoid life forms."

Janeway frowned. Sooner or later, Ensign Wildman was going to come looking for her daughter, and she wanted to have an answer. For the time being, however, she had to accept that the problem would remain. "Have you done everything possible?"

"With the resources we have."

"That's all I can expect for now. How long have you been on duty?"

"Counting the walk here?"

"Find someone to relieve you of duty. Eat something, and rest."

"Yes, Captain."

"Once you're ready, we'll start work on the impulse engines."

Ending the conversation, Janeway balanced her cheek against her palm and her elbow on the arm of her chair. The next few weeks were going to be rather trying, she considered. If she ran her crew ragged, they could have Voyager running properly in approximately nine days; however, she valued the crew's mental and physical health, so a more reasonable estimation was thirteen days. She suspected that the solar interference would slow them down even further, so that thirteen days might stretch beyond two weeks depending on the difficulties they faced.

At least most of the dirt had been cleaned and the broken parts fed into the recycler. Power had been restored to most systems, as well. Deciding to organize the efforts of her crew, she contacted each individual and determined a rotating schedule to ensure every person got a chance to sleep and recharge. As much as she liked having her senior officers working with her on the alpha shift, she determined their skills would be better utilized if they worked different shifts. She settled in her chair as her thoughts drifted to one of the senior officers who wouldn't be helping for the foreseeable future.

* * *

Seven was in nothingness.

She floated there, unaware of herself or her surroundings. The empty expanse lingered until she sucked in a breath of thick, heavy air. The acrid smell of metals and blood flooded her nostrils, and the space around her filled with the sickly green glow that permeated most Borg cubes and spheres. This place was safe. This place was home. She hung limply and existed. When orders entered her cortical node, she marched mindlessly and completed them. There was no grand feeling of accomplishment or of a job well done, but she was pleased with her efforts nonetheless. She was a part of something bigger than herself-something meaningful.

As long as she followed orders and functioned per the requirements of her position as unit Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One, she would continue to live an endless life in the pursuit of perfection. She would not be deactivated. She would not feel pain.

She would not feel love.

Her chest constricted in response to that thought. She was not on the cube, she thought. She was on Voyager, in her alcove. She wasn't Borg, she reminded herself: she was human. Her daily pursuit was not perfection but survival. Part of this was incredibly worrisome. As a human being, she cared about her continuing existence in a way that was impossible as a drone. Not only did she need to extend her own life, but she needed to protect her captain's.

Her heart, which was previously sluggish in its beating, began to race a little faster.

Janeway was responsible for freeing her from the Collective and was her reason for existing as she was. What had started as a relationship based on frustration and mistrust had developed much more quickly than she was prepared. With each step she took toward reclaiming her humanity, she moved closer to the stocky redhead who simply refused to let her flinch away from difficulties.

She remembered collapsing in Janeway's arms directly after her severance from the Collective. She remembered the warmth of Janeway's touch on her shoulder. She remembered Janeway's firm but kind tone and quiet, husky voice. She remembered-access to her memory engrams abruptly cut off, and she lost certainty. She thought she remembered the softness of Janeway's lips on her own, but such an experience more likely qualified as a fantasy rather than a reality.

Fantasies were not something to which she was accustomed. As an ex-drone and scientist, she found value in facts and reality. Idle daydreams were an inefficient use of time, as pleasurable repasts so often were. She already dallied more than enough in playing Velocity with the captain and in dining twice a day in the mess hall. To waste further time reflected poorly on her, and she sought to bury the thoughts away.

Unfortunately, her imaginary Janeway was as persistent and stubborn as the real one; no matter how hard she fought to think of anything else, her mind fixated on the short, passionate brushing of her lips against Janeway's. Enough, she ordered. Janeway had already rebuffed her advances, which meant that continuing down this path would lead to nothing but aggravation. Her mind, however, wasn't listening to her.

Angry, she tried to move her limbs. She wanted to press her fingers to her head and force the thoughts from her mind, but she found herself immobile. No matter how hard she focused, no part of her body responded, and fear spread throughout her. This felt horribly like being a drone once more, she realized. The Borg cube was not safe or home. Being Borg meant having no control over herself or her actions, and she wasn't ready to lose that again.

* * *

B'Elanna woke up mid-snore to the loud beeping of her comm badge. Beside her, Tom slumbered onward. He was capable of sleeping through a red alert, if he really wanted to. She appreciated that about him, mostly because he never complained about how loud she could be at night. She silenced the badge and reached for the padd she left on the bedside table. Hope filled her as she activated the device and read the provided information. Excited, she tapped her comm badge and uttered the captain's name.

"I thought I told you to rest-"

"And I thought you'd like to know that Seven's alcove has registered faint life signs." B'Elanna couldn't see the captain, but she assumed Janeway's face lit up at the news. Although she could only guess as to the nature of Janeway's relationship with Seven, she knew Seven maintained a special place in Janeway's life, romantic or otherwise.

"Thank you, B'Elanna," Janeway replied, her voice breathy. "Now go back to bed."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

On the bridge, Janeway immediately redirected her console to the alcove's read-outs. While Seven was hardly awake, there were definite signs of improvement. Seven was a fighter, Janeway thought with no small amount of pride. There was also a hefty dose of relief flooding through her at the realization that Seven wasn't dead. Part of her wanted to rush down to the Cargo Bay to watch over Seven's regeneration, but she had to admit that she didn't think she could manage the Jefferies tubes by herself. Visiting Seven would have to wait until after her surgery.

With a grimace, she resumed monitoring the activities of her crew. The upper areas of the ship were the first to receive treatment, as they were above ground and most of the damage was to the interior. Decks one through three being relatively in tact, if a little messy, allowed the crew to focus their attention on the remaining twelve decks, as well as the port nacelle which had been damaged on impact. The warp core was offline, as were the thrusters. According to the information provided to her, they needed to fix the thrusters first so that they could wrench Voyager free from its place of impact and conduct external repairs. Some areas of the ship had been crunched, crumpled, or destroyed.

Feeling a bit selfish, Janeway was grateful her quarters hadn't been destroyed. There were crewmen who weren't nearly as lucky, and room assignments had to be shifted to ensure every person had a bed to rest on during their off-shift. Another boon was that the mess hall was able to open quickly, and Neelix was working feverishly to keep everyone fed. She planned on checking in on him after her surgery as well. He had been present for Ensign Bronowski's demise, and he was a sensitive man. While he was probably giving his best effort to help the crew, he was also probably ignoring his own needs. As captain, she considered reminding him to care for himself her duty.

She checked the chronometer and sighed-only four more hours until what had been deemed nightfall. Four more hours until she could get her injury tended, and just over four hours until she could visit Seven. At the very least, she considered as she sank deeper into her chair, her leg wasn't paining her.

* * *

"This should only take about ten minutes." The Doctor leaned over her prone form and raised his eyebrows. His tone, as always, struck her as condescending, but she couldn't fault him for how he was programmed. "That is, as long as you didn't injure yourself further…?"

Janeway hoped her cheeks didn't redden in response. She'd rejected the offer of a security detail to escort her down to the sickbay and had made the journey to deck five without assistance. Doing so had been stupid, but she wanted to appear competent and capable of command. Even if she hadn't blushed, the Doctor knew her too well, and she had to listen to his lecture on listening to his recommendations in the future-after all, he was programmed with all of Starfleet's current medical knowledge, so he truly knew best. She wished the procedure required her to be unconscious.

She chose the next best thing and closed her eyes while he worked. While she couldn't block out his words, she could let her mind wander. Physically, she couldn't yet visit Cargo Bay Two, but mentally, she was standing in front of the Borg alcove. She was watching Seven regenerate and appreciating the lean angle of Seven's features. She was tracing the arch and dip of Seven's lips-

"Captain?"

She opened her eyes. "Yes?"

"Are you experiencing discomfort? You're registering elevated readings."

"I'm fine," she huffed with a bit more vitriol than she intended. He couldn't know what she was thinking about, but he knew more about her than she wished. The less rational she acted, however, the more likely he'd realize he'd stumbled onto some part of her psyche that she didn't want revealed. Calming her tone, she added, "There's simply a lot to do, and I don't like being incapacitated."

"Understandable." He ran his scanner over her leg once more and nodded. "I've completed your surgery, but you'll need to come back in two days for-"

"Thank you, Doctor," she interrupted as she got hesitantly to her feet. Her legs were stable, which was incredibly pleasing. "Keep up the good work."

He sputtered complaints at her back as she left the sickbay. Being mobile once more was gratifying, and she was in good spirits as she passed various crewmen. A happy captain meant a happy ship, she thought as she briskly walked down the bulkhead to Cargo Bay Two, and things aboard Voyager were definitely looking up. The room was empty-not because there was nothing to do, she figured, but because Seven's lackluster form on the dais was likely off-putting. Certainly, the image brought her spirits a little lower.

Still, Seven was alive. That alone was worth celebrating.

Janeway crossed the room and stood a few feet away from the blonde. She'd come so close to losing Seven, something which she was starting to understand would be utterly devastating. She ought to keep her distance so as to maintain a professional relationship between them, but they were opposing magnetic poles. Unable to resist, she lifted her hand and trailed her fingers along Seven's cheek.

"Regeneration cycle incomplete."

Minutely horrified that she may have interrupted Seven's healing process, Janeway moved back. Seven's eyes flicked open, looked beyond Janeway, and then focused. Blinking a few more times to finish clearing her vision, she took a trembling step forward.

"Captain?"

Seven stumbled before Janeway could respond. Catching Seven by the shoulders, Janeway tugged the younger woman into a hug. There were a number of things she could say to Seven, ranging from an impersonal greeting to an emotional outburst of her feelings; instead, she said nothing as she held the other woman to her chest.


	5. Forging Ahead

5: Forging Ahead

Seven rested against Janeway for several moments as she regained her bearings. Although she was aware of her surroundings, nothing quite felt real. What she'd experienced while unconscious had seemed like reality, which meant this could be fake as well. She found that she desperately wanted this, and if Janeway's embrace were nothing but a dream, she'd be disappointed on awakening. Before long, however, she became aware of a dull throbbing behind her eyes.

Despite having a mouth that felt like sandpaper, Seven summoned her voice. "Captain?"

Janeway hugged her a bit tighter before releasing her. Seven nearly shivered under Janeway's intense gaze, and she thought she ought to say something else to prompt Janeway to speak. That proved unnecessary, as Janeway's hand lifted to cup her jaw.

"You are never to do that again."

"Do what?" A flush rose in Janeway's cheeks; Seven noted this with keen interest. "What occurred? We are back on Voyager…?"

"You almost died." Janeway's voice hitched on the last word, driving home how distraught Seven had made her. "I'm ordering you to avoid situations in the future where death is a potential outcome."

Seven's ocular implant lifted. "Then I will never again be allowed in the mess hall to try Neelix's cooking?"

A rush of emotion swelled in Janeway's chest-she knew Seven's social skills had been improving, but to hear the younger woman joke proved to her how far Seven had come since their fateful meeting on the Borg cube. There were times when she was certain Seven was the most human person she'd ever met, even given her odd upbringing. She stroked Seven's cheek as she struggled with all the feelings warring for her attention.

The residual fear of thinking Seven was in danger still lurked, and she'd have to find a way to let that nervous energy out without harming anyone or anything. The holodeck, once it was back online, would suffice, but she didn't know if she could wait that long. She was, of course, euphoric that Seven was alive, awake, and in her arms. Alternately, she was a bit apprehensive about what this meant beyond the walls of Cargo Bay Two-there had been no ham-handed confession of unending love and no passion-filled kiss, but she felt as though her feelings were apparent enough.

Realizing that Seven was awaiting a response, Janeway laughed and said, "I suppose you're allowed to take small, calculated risks."

Seven's chin tilted up. "All my risks are calculated."

"Then just focus on the 'small' part of the order."

Seven gradually noticed that Janeway was in no hurry to step away from her. She'd assumed that once the captain ascertained her wellness, Janeway would allow her to stand on her own. She wasn't complaining, but she was wondering what this meant. However, Janeway was usually reticent about her feelings, so there would be no point in asking directly. Besides, Janeway had a ship and crew to attend to; there would be no time for romance, no matter how much Seven desired such.

"Yes, Captain."

Janeway hugged her again, and Seven wondered if the kiss she'd dreamed about had actually occurred. She wished her mental faculties had been functioning efficiently before she passed out, as then she'd have definitive proof one way or the other.

"You scared me," Janeway murmured, just loud enough for Seven to hear. The soft rasp of Janeway's voice sent a shudder of anticipation down Seven's spine.

"That was not my intention."

"I've spent years keeping myself distant from my crew-doing so was something I was fairly proud of. I needed to be somehow perfect if I was going to get everyone home."

Uncertain of where Janeway was going, Seven furrowed her brow. "Captain?"

"But then you came along. All the barriers I put up were suddenly-insufficient." Janeway exhaled slowly. "For a while, I was able to convince myself that nothing could ever happen because you weren't emotionally developed. I couldn't take advantage of you. What kind of captain would that make me? What kind of person?"

"That is no longer the case," Seven murmured. "You cannot take advantage of that which is willingly and knowingly given."

Janeway's fingers brushed under her chin and lifted her face up. She gazed at the soft moue of Janeway's lips and shifted forward to touch them with hers. Janeway's eyes fluttered shut, even after the end of the brief kiss.

"I was afraid before because I thought allowing you closer would interfere with my ability to lead. Yet, this whole fiasco has proven differently. Although I was terrified for your well being, I was able to do what I had to. It seems that every defense I raised against this-against you-are invalid."

Seven kept her eyes focused on Janeway's lips. "Did you kiss me before I passed out?"

"I did."

"Permission to kiss you again."

If the moment hadn't been somber, Janeway would have laughed. Instead, she smiled crookedly and murmured, "Granted."

Seven took a moment to trace her hands along Janeway's face, feeling the smooth curves and sloping angles before dipping down and kissing the slighter woman with more vigor. Janeway's hands slipped along her shoulders and held her close, and she reveled in Janeway's gentle strength. She still felt weak after her ordeal, and she knew her regeneration cycle was incomplete, but being with the captain made her comfortable with her vulnerability. No harm could befall her while Janeway was this near to her, and she, too, allowed her eyes to shut so as to better feel Janeway's lips moving against hers.

"Your lips are soft," she said as they parted. Her attempt to catalogue the moment made Janeway chuckle. She stiffened, unsure if she had acted inappropriately. Janeway's hand rubbed her shoulder, and she relaxed once more.

"So are yours."

"What does this mean?"

Although she'd been considering that question for some time, Janeway still wasn't sure of the answer. She hadn't engaged in a relationship since Mark, and her position as captain restricted her availability-but she wanted to be with Seven, just as long as Seven wanted to be with her.

"It means we have a few things to discuss when you're feeling better."

"I wish to have this discussion now."

"Seven, you're still recuperating, and-"

"I am well enough to talk."

Janeway brushed her hand along Seven's back. "I also need to collect my thoughts, as well as attend to the ship's repairs. You would be doing me a favor by regenerating now and talking with me later, once we both have the appropriate time and energy."

After a moment, Seven nodded stiffly. "Very well. I will comply."

"Thank you." Janeway gestured to the alcove, and Seven stepped back onto the dais. "When you're done regenerating, come find me."

Seven met her gaze and smiled before closing her eyes. Janeway waited several minutes and watched Seven's resting form, reassuring herself that things would be okay. Seven was recovering, and soon, Voyager would be back on its way to the Alpha Quadrant. With a deep sigh, she turned and headed to Engineering. Having a working leg again was wonderful, she determined as she strode toward the warp core, which was still dim and dead.

"Report."

B'Elanna, who had been bent over a nearby console, ran a hand through her hair and grimaced. "We're doing the best that we can, but some parts are missing."

Janeway tilted her head. "Not destroyed or broken?"

"Just gone."

"Curious. Have you replicated replacements?"

"I sent crews out to determine the damage to the ship's outer hull first. There's evidence that someone or something is taking our plating. I haven't replicated more because we're going to run out of matter if we have to keep replacing every damn part. We need to get those parts back, or we're going to be here a long, long time. We also need to secure a perimeter, so nothing else walks away."

Sensing a flare in B'Elanna's temper, Janeway set a hand on the younger woman's shoulder. "I'll get Tuvok on that right away. Is there anything you need to get those thrusters back online?"

B'Elanna shook her head. "We're working as hard as we can, but to be honest, some of the crew is scared. They don't know what happened to Bronowski, and rumors are spreading. And now someone's taking parts…"

"I understand. I'll handle it. Continue on here."

"Yes, Captain."

* * *

Janeway settled on the couch in her ready room and allowed herself to relax for the first time in seven hours. The crew was already stretched thin by the repairs, but Tuvok had gathered a group of men and women to patrol the woods just beyond Voyager; thus far, nothing had been noted by the security detail, but those still inside Voyager seemed a bit calmer and more able to focus. She supposed a feeling of safety was beneficial to everyone, the same way being in space was comforting to her. She could survive being grounded, but she thrived among the stars, much the same way her crew was performing better without worrying about what was lurking outside.

She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose as her thoughts drifted to Seven of Nine, who was, as of fifteen minutes ago, still regenerating. On the one hand, she was anxious all over again because of how long Seven had been unconscious. On the other, she was grateful for the additional time to think. Had Seven approached her earlier, while she was in the throes of helping the ship get running, she would have been flustered. Now, she had time to sort through her thoughts and emotions properly.

If only, she mused, she had the vaguest idea what she thought or felt after everything that had happened.

Dragging herself up off the couch, she went to the replicator and requested an ice water; coffee would have woken her up, but she was aware that she needed to rest soon as well, and caffeine would only get in the way. Instead, she relied on the frigid temperature of her beverage to rouse herself a bit as she snagged a padd from her desk. She tapped her fingers along the device, considering what exactly she wanted to put into words. There were, of course, her worries about the crew and her ability to lead, as well as her increasing fondness for Seven. There was the excess fear still roiling in her belly and the stress regarding the situation. She typed: What do I want? and sat silently staring at the question for several minutes.

In an ideal world, she and Seven could explore their feelings, presuming Seven had them for her, in a normal fashion. There might have been dates and introductions to each other's families and all the other banal details she normally found boring in relationships. However, she felt almost cheated that she didn't have the same opportunities with Seven. Here, they'd have to limit their relationship to off-duty time, and Janeway would have to work to maintain impartiality. Despite this, she decided she did indeed want to pursue something with the younger woman-the only trick was making sure Seven knew exactly what she was getting herself into.

The door chimed, and her heart thudded with anticipation. Seven may have awoken and come to find her-her enthusiasm melted away when, after she uttered 'Enter,' Ensign Wildman spilled into her ready room, eyes red rimmed and cheeks pale. She swallowed hard. She'd been expecting this sooner or later, but she'd been hoping for much, much later. Because the solar interference had increased once more, there was no news on the three missing crewmen, Wildman's daughter included.

"Captain."

"Samantha, please, sit down."

Samantha did so, and Janeway watched how nervously the woman's hands twitched and fiddled with each other. She had no children of her own, so she couldn't begin to imagine what losing a daughter might feel like. All she had for comparison was how she felt during the beginnings of this mission, when she realized she would never see her dog again-that had been painful, and so she could safely assume Samantha was suffering from fairly intense duress.

"Have they found her?"

"They're still looking," she replied as soothingly as she could. "They'll notify you the moment they know something."

"She's just a little girl. It's been two days-"

"She's a resourceful little girl, and she may very well be with Ensign Kim or Icheb, both of whom would take excellent care of her."

Samantha stared down at her hands. "I don't think I could-nothing can happen to her."

"Nothing will." Janeway leaned forward, placing her hands atop Samantha's. "I know how easy it is to expect the worst-that seems to be our natural response to uncertainty. We think as long as we assume something awful, whatever actually occurs can't be any worse. Although doing so can be difficult, I urge you to have hope."

When Samantha began to cry, Janeway gathered her up and sat patiently. Dealing with the problems of others was something she'd excelled at since she was a child-she'd tended to her mother when her father's absence had been too much, and, in between petty arguments, she always listened to her sister's relationship woes. Her own problems were another matter entirely, as she normally excelled only at ignoring them until they grew too large.

The door chimed once more, which caused Samantha to abruptly sit up and wipe at her eyes. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time, Captain Janeway."

"Not at all. I apologize that we don't have more encouraging news, but I'm certain she'll turn up."

"I'll try to be certain, as well." Samantha tried to smile, but the expression was strained.

The door chimed once more, so Janeway squeezed Samantha's hands and called, "Come in."

When Seven walked in, Janeway felt a little bit of her burden lift. Ensign Wildman hurried out, leaving Seven and Janeway to eye each other quietly. Gesturing for Seven to take a seat, Janeway fumbled with her padd, hoping to refresh her memory after the brief interlude with the ensign. Everything had seemed so clear before, but now, she was once again thick-tongued.

"Was everything okay with Ensign Wildman?"

"Naomi hasn't yet been found. Neither have Harry Kim or Icheb, for that matter."

"The rest of the crew has been returned otherwise?"

"Yes. There have been a few fatalities, and the ship is in rough shape."

"Then perhaps you are right-perhaps now is not the time for a discussion of something so personal. Other matters take precedent."

Although Janeway recognized the out being offered to her, she declined. "There will always be pressing matters demanding either my attention or yours, which means there will never be a truly ideal time to have this conversation."

Seven's smile was a stark contrast to Ensign Wildman's, and Janeway felt a bit warmer. Having committed to their discussion, she glanced once more at her padd.

"Have you written down what you want to say?"

"Just some notes, really."

"I feel underprepared."

"You're fine," Janeway hurried to assure her. "I simply prefer laying everything out before making a decision."

Seven arched an eyebrow. "A decision?"

Janeway's cheeks heated. "I suppose I was presuming too much, but after what occurred in the cargo bay…"

"Explain."

Seven's direct and demanding nature was refreshing, but Janeway wished that for once, the blonde Borg would let her get away with being vague. "I have been harboring more than friendly feelings for you. I assumed you felt at least somewhat similarly, given how you kissed me."

"What decision were you attempting to make?"

"Whether pursuing a relationship would be worthwhile for either of us."

"And?"

"Seven." Janeway scooted a bit closer and licked her lips. "I need you to understand what a relationship with me would entail. I'm the captain, and as such, I have a different set of priorities than other people. I could never place romance before my ship."

"I understand."

"In the abstract, I'm sure you do. The reality, however, is sometimes different than what you might expect."

"My duties also consume a good deal of my time. We are both busy and committed to our work. I fail to see the problem."

Before Janeway could respond, a third voice broke in: "Tuvok to the Captain."

Frustration lanced through her, although this was a perfect illustration of her point. "Go ahead, Tuvok."

"The security team encountered a threat. While the conflict is ongoing, we are not sustaining serious injury."

Part of her wanted to stay and talk to Seven, but a louder, more demanding part of her needed to be in control of the situation. "I'm on my way."

"That would be ill-advised-"

"Perhaps," she allowed, her eyes flicking to Seven, who listened silently and attentively. "But I've made my decision. Where are you?"

"Thirty meters starboard."

"Janeway out."

When Janeway headed for the door, Seven rose to follow. "I'm coming with as well."

"No, Seven. You've only just recovered. Has the Doctor cleared you for active duty?"

Unwilling to lie, Seven skirted the truth. "I have fully regenerated, and I am fully capable of aiding you."

"I don't have time to argue. Try not to get hurt."

"Yes, Captain."

"And we'll finish this conversation later."

As Seven followed Janeway to battle, she began to understand a bit better what Janeway was attempting to impress on her. She supposed the hectic atmosphere was part of what made captaincy and space travel interesting, but she would have appreciated a definite conclusion to their conversation. Instead, what she got was a phaser thrust into her hands.

Once her regeneration had been completed, she had awoken and found herself alone. There was likely a good deal to do, which meant that Janeway was too busy to stand and wait for her to finish regenerating, but Seven couldn't stop the small stab of disappointment when she stepped off her dais to silence and an empty room. There were a few aches and pains in her body, which her nanoprobes were immediately dispatched to deal with, but she felt nearly normal once more. Based on this experience, she decided to be more stringent with her regenerating in the future, so as to avoid collapsing once more.

Her mind tumbled over the events leading to this moment, and her chest tightened with anticipation. According to her research, Janeway's behavior suggested attraction, which countermanded Janeway's reaction to her bucket list. There was more to this situation, she determined. She knew Janeway was stubborn, and apparently that bullheadedness could impede Janeway's acceptance of her feelings.

Now, as she tailed the slighter woman outside, she comprehended that Janeway's hesitation wasn't just Janeway being headstrong. She was worried for Janeway's well being, which led to her getting involved in this conflict-a decision she might not have made if not for her desire to protect the captain from harm. She considered her functioning different but not impaired, yet she knew Janeway had much more on her mind.

She was yanked from her thoughts by a blast of sizzling energy that scorched the ground to her left. Toppling sideways, she dragged Janeway out of the way before a second shot could hit either of them. Under other circumstances, she would have luxuriated in the close physical contact; for the moment, however, she pushed all feelings of pleasure away and helped Janeway to where Tuvok had his team safely blocked from whoever was firing at them.

"What are we up against?"

Even as Janeway sought information from her Chief of Security, Seven peered into the jungle in an attempt to ascertain the identity of their attackers on her own. All she could clearly spot were glints of metal and flashes of energy.

"They are synthetic beings, and their weapons are unlike anything we've come across before. They have not responded to any form of communication except live fire."

"Who fired first?"

He tilted his head as he stated, "Lt. Arkinson spotted one attempting to near the ship. He issued a verbal demand that it cease and desist. When the being ignored his order, he stated his preparedness to open fire. The being continued forward, and the lieutenant followed through."

She couldn't blame him, she supposed, but she was a bit disappointed this had come to violence. "Tell them to stop firing."

"Captain?"

"That's an order."

Tuvok lifted his hand, and immediately, all Starfleet personnel lowered their phasers and looked toward her for direction. Blasts from the jungle continued slinging past them, but she hoped that the cessation of their perceived aggression would eventually soothe their opponents.

"Lt. Torres will not be pleased to find that we are down another part," Tuvok noted.

"I am aware of her concerns," Janeway replied. "However, I would prefer not breaking Voyager with their weaponry, just as I would prefer to avoid incurring injury to the crew. We need to learn about them and find a way to end their theft peacefully."

"What if they don't stop firing?" Crewman Chell asked, his blue brow wrinkling with worry. A moment after he spoke, however, the blasts halted, and a wide smile broke open on his features. He strode away from their hiding spot, only to have Tuvok grip the back of his tunic and drag him back under cover.

"They may see motion as a threat."

"Oh." Chell's throat worked as he swallowed anxiously. "So how will we get back inside?"

"We'll wait."

Janeway folded her arms and cocked her head. The beings in the trees wouldn't stick around forever-after all, they had what they wanted, so there was no purpose in continuing to fight, unless, of course, they were malicious. There also remained the chance that her crew had harmed them, and they might want some sort of revenge. She hoped this wasn't the case, as no good ever came from those situations.

Using nanoprobes to enhance her vision, Seven watched as several metallic shapes moved about the shadows of the jungle. Ignoring the chatter around her, she focused only on learning as much as she could from their unsteady movements and hazy outlines. By the time they disappeared into the trees, she was fairly certain they were as uncertain about Voyager's crew as the crew was about them.

"They have left," she announced; much to her consternation, Crewman Chell bolted for the ship's airlock-that was the fastest she'd ever seen him move, as he was noted more for his culinary interests than his physical prowess.

"Lt. Arkinson, report to the briefing room at 1600 hours. I will want a full description of your encounter." She eyed the young man, who snapped to attention at her address. While her relationship with Seven was breaking down firmly established barriers, she was glad to see she could still make the average crew member jump. "Dismissed. Tuvok, establishing a perimeter is only wasting manpower, as there's clearly nothing we can do at the moment to stop the theft. I want you to work with B'Elanna to see if there's any sort of energy barrier we can erect instead."

"Yes, Captain." He tilted his head and left.

"Seven, I need you to examine a robot Tom Paris incapacitated. See if you can find some sort of access port."

"Yes, Captain."

Before Seven could follow Tuvok, Janeway set her hand on Seven's arm. Seven turned briefly to warm Janeway with one of her rare smiles and then disappeared back into Voyager. Janeway waited a moment longer to scan the jungle before doing the same.

* * *

Harry yawned and stretched, feeling every ache and pain his body had to offer him. Sleeping in a cave was definitely not his preferred means of achieving rest, as the rough surfaces dug into his soft body in most unpleasant ways. He wasn't sure how long he'd slept or even what time it was, as the dim lighting had never changed. There was a chance that Icheb's internal clock was better than his; however, he didn't want the younger man to think him incapable, so he refused to ask.

"Report."

Icheb's brow rose at the command. "Nothing of note occurred during your four hours of sleep."

"Any sign of Naomi?"

"Nothing of note occurred during your four hours of sleep?"

Harry rubbed his forehead and fought to keep his temper in check. He wasn't angry at Icheb. He was angry at their circumstances-and he was tired, hungry, and in pain, none of which contributed to a good mood. Rather than lash out at his subordinate, he did his best to rationalize his emotions and maintain control.

"I'd like to find her today and get out of these caves. I don't think there's much more we can learn, and we're definitely not going to find Voyager in here."

Inclining his head agreeably, Icheb stated, "Then I recommend we follow this path back to where we began. She may have returned, expecting to find us there."

"She wouldn't just wait around," Harry argued. He had to admit, the idea certainly had merit. However, he was in charge, and he found Icheb's suggestion grating. "If we keep moving, we're more likely to run into her."

"This is a labyrinth of tunnels-"

"You said you had them mapped."

"I do."

"Then concentrate on guiding us through them. I'll worry about where we're going." Despite having uttered nonsense, Harry refused to back down. He pointed in a direction that seemed right and set off without looking back to make sure Icheb was coming with him.

Icheb did follow, albeit slowly. The pain from his broken arm was slowly worsening, and although he did his best to continue performing adequately, he was afraid his performance was suffering. He was no longer completely aware of where they were heading and where they had already been. Should Harry ask him to navigate out of the caves, he knew he'd have to admit that they were lost. If only, he thought morosely, he could find something to dampen the pain and allow his thoughts to clear. Then he'd be able to gather his bearings and resume accurately providing directions.

He wondered why Voyager had not transported them to safety, yet. Although the ship might have been damaged, he couldn't imagine getting the transporters back on line would be terribly time consuming. This left three reasonably plausible alternatives, all of which required further analysis. The first was that Voyager was destroyed in the crash, and there were no transporters remaining. Second, the crew had yet to locate the ship. The third option was that there was something impairing Voyager's ability to find and move them.

If Voyager was destroyed, then there was nothing he could do. He would continue to follow Harry Kim's orders until they could ascertain the fates of their fellow crewmen, and then he would do what he needed in order to survive. What would be easier was his second alternative, which meant that they merely had to await rescue, much as they had been. This required less effort, but he disliked the feeling of helplessness that accompanied waiting for the assistance of others. He preferred solving problems with his own intellect.

He could do that with the third option. As he walked, he appraised their surroundings. The mountain was rich with minerals, some of which he couldn't identify. He hadn't spent much time outside the caves, but he supposed something in the atmosphere could be causing this problem as well. His tricorder wasn't performing adequately, so he couldn't gather the requisite data to fully form a hypothesis. Still, the minerals were the best place to start.

"Icheb, I see something."

This was hardly the first time Harry had made such a statement; Icheb didn't allow his hopes to rise as he caught up and peered beyond his companion. Despite Harry's previous false alarms, he had finally found something of note: the cavern just beyond their tunnel was full of robots milling about. When they stepped into the space, first one and then the next, and so on, began thrumming Naomi's name.

Icheb sensed no aggression from these units as they moved deeper into the cavern. The robots seemed to be equipped to mine rather than fight, and he pondered whether they could communicate-if he could convince one to help, then he could obtain a sample of the mineral to study. They were capable of saying 'Naomi,' which was promising, but they had yet to say anything else.

"Do you think she's here?"

Icheb kept moving. "She may be. We will not know until we complete a full survey."

"They must have seen her." Harry dodged past a robot that didn't notice his presence. "They're saying her name."

"They don't know what it means."

"How can you tell?"

"There is no inflection to their tones and no purpose to their calls. They may associate the noise with humanoid creatures, especially if they came into contact with Naomi first."

"They better not have hurt her."

"I would not recommend attacking at this time," Icheb warned, his eyes on Harry's tightening fists. "We're outnumbered, and instigating a conflict would not be wise."

"I know that."

"Icheb!"

Icheb guarded his broken arm as Naomi barreled through the robots and latched her arms around his waist. He patted the top of her head and gazed down at her. "You should not run that far next time."

"I'm sorry. I was angry."

"Are you injured?"

She shook her head. "They didn't do anything to me. I taught them my name, but they won't learn anything else. I've been trying to teach one basic words for hours!"

"We would like to leave these caves and find food."

Pulling on his good arm, she tugged him to the small area where she'd been resting. Various foods were scattered in a small circle, and he gratefully picked up something that appeared like a Terran apple. He sank his teeth in and was rewarded by a sweet squirt of juice. The pain of his arm was lessened by having something in his belly, and he relaxed.

"Don't eat that!"

His tension built once more as he turned his attention to Harry. "Why not?"

"It could be poisonous. We don't know how this planet's plant life might affect our physiologies."

"I've been eating it for a while," Naomi countered, her hands akimbo. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, maybe right now. But you could be getting seriously sick as we speak."

The blood drained from her face, and Icheb refused to let her feel this way. "I am certain that you would have felt any negative effects by now, Naomi. You are fine."

"But he said-"

"I am aware of what he said." He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes…"

"You will be fine."

She kissed his cheek and set about sorting through her food. "This one tastes really good. Mr. Harry, did you want to try it?"

Harry felt his stomach rumble, and his iron will crumbled. When he was silent, Icheb pulled his tricorder out and assessed the food. "It's perfectly safe, Ensign Kim."

Feeling foolish, Harry accepted the offering and devoured the fruit.

* * *

Seven pried a portion of the robot's outer casing off and examined the wiring beneath. The technology was advanced, but nothing the Borg had not encountered before. Somewhere inside, she would find its central processor and memory, through which she could assimilate its primary data. Ensign Cabot lingered nearby in case she needed assistance, but she doubted the young woman would be necessary.

Tearing some cables loose, she dug through the robot's internal structures until she found a metal box the size of her fist. After she pulled the box loose, she found where a connection of some sort was to be hooked, and she sent in the twin cables that morphed from the Borg implant on her hand. For several moments, her mind was flooded with new information, and her thoughts overloaded. There was too much to process, she noted, at least consciously, so she finished her download and stood unsteadily. She would deal much better if she regenerated and let her brain do what it was best at.

"You will escort me to Cargo Bay Two."

Cabot hurried to obey.

* * *

"Start at the top." Janeway was frustrated with the lieutenant who had started the conflict earlier, but she managed to keep her voice level and her expression pleasant. Scaring him would do nothing but encourage him to hide the facts, and she needed to know the details before she planned her next step.

He was sweating. Although the planet was indeed hot, she determined the source of his perspiration to be the pressure he must have felt himself to be under. Still, when she prompted, he launched into his explanation-haltingly at first, but with growing confidence when she didn't interrupt or question him.

"I was out in the jungle. You know. Securing a perimeter. Like I was supposed to." He pawed at his forehead and then locked his hands behind his back. "But I saw something approaching Voyager, so I went to investigate. It was some sort of robot, and it was prying a part of the ship loose. I told it to stop, but maybe it didn't hear me, so I tried again, but louder. It didn't stop again, so I drew my phaser and told it that if it didn't cease, I would open fire."

"Let me guess. It didn't stop."

He jerked his head up and down. "When it proceeded to remove the part and head back into the jungle, I did as I threatened, and I fired my phaser. I guess it wasn't alone, though, because they fired back almost immediately."

Janeway felt as if she were still missing something; she couldn't fathom the purpose behind stealing parts from the ship. If she knew the impetus, then she could come up with a diplomatic solution that would satisfy both parties. Being so in the dark, however, made this a guessing game. Naturally, she wanted to avoid violence, but she also couldn't let her ship be taken apart piece by piece.

"Was there anything unusual about the encounter?"

He shifted nervously. "Unusual?"

"Any small detail that struck you as strange."

"Well… I wasn't sure…"

She leaned forward. "What?"

"Well, I thought I heard it say something." His fidgeting intensified. "I mean, it's impossible, so I was probably just hearing things."

"Out with it," she commanded, a bit more aggressively than she intended. She hated this sort of pussyfooting around, and she simply wanted the facts. She supposed a bit of Seven was already affecting her command, and thoughts of the blonde eased some of her tension. "My apologies, Lieutenant. I'm just a bit eager."

He stared at the floor and hesitantly said, "I could have sworn it said 'Naomi,' which is really weird. Why would a robot know a human name?"

Janeway's eyebrows crept up her forehead. "Why indeed?"

"Like I said, I was probably imagining things-or mishearing."

"Anything else?"

"No, ma'am."

She winced at the title but understood how anxious he was. "In the future, I hope you are a bit slower to fire your weapon, Lieutenant. That will be all."

He dipped his head and left, probably to avoid her reconsidering the lack of punishment. No injury had resulted, and he was doing his best to protect the ship, so she saw fit to let him off easy. Besides, she thought as she reviewed the padd containing his report, he had tried diplomacy first. She would have tried harder, but she couldn't hold everyone to the same high standard she held herself. The only other person aboard Voyager capable of meeting her expectations was Seven, and she was certain Seven would never disappoint her.

She'd done a fair bit of disappointing herself over the years.

Despite the current set of problems acting as an active distraction, she knew the thought was lingering somewhere nearby. She couldn't go long in a stressful situation without the doubt starting to creep in. She could have avoided this entire situation if she hadn't blown up the Caretaker's Array. She could have been more careful with her crew and her decisions. There were millions of choices made along the way that could have been different, and now, alone in the briefing room, she wondered which were right and which were wrong.

There had been loss, damage, and heartache during their voyage through the Delta Quadrant, but there had also been hope and healing. She rested her cheek against one fist and thought about the people they had helped and the friends they had made. Perhaps if Voyager hadn't happened along, those people would have found some other way to survive, but she had nearly convinced herself that her presence in this area was essential in some way-that destroying the Array had resulted in more good than harm.

Certainly, Seven would have still been a Borg drone if she'd allowed Voyager to slingshot back to the Alpha Quadrant. Was one life truly worth those she'd lost along the way? She felt a bit compromised as she realized that she regarded Seven's life that highly, but she couldn't as easily say the same for everyone. She felt and mourned the loss of every life under her command. Yet, she wouldn't change her choices, if doing so meant never meeting Seven. Like the Borg Queen, she jealously hoarded Seven's distinctiveness in her Collective, and she couldn't imagine life without the statuesque other woman.

The door swooshed open, admitting her senior staff. The only person missing was the woman currently occupying most of her thoughts. Her question about Seven's whereabouts were answered by B'Elanna, who remarked that Seven had been regenerating and should be by sooner or later. She pushed her worries away for the time being and allowed the meeting to begin.

"I've been working on an electromagnetic energy field to use instead of a patrol," B'Elanna stated. "The only problem is that we don't know how the solar interference will, well, interfere. Either the fence'll be too strong or too weak, and we won't know until we try."

"What are the risks?"

"We'll be using resources, and we'll have to test the thing incrementally at different times of the day, which will be time consuming."

Janeway considered this. She supposed they could spare the manpower, as most of Voyager was clean if not repaired. There were less skilled individuals who could follow B'Elanna's instructions, as long as the half-Klingon were willing to be patient. In the past, she would have doubted such a thing could be possible, but these days, she was more than willing to bet on her Chief Engineer in most matters.

"And the thrusters?"

"They're coming along. I'd like Seven's help, once she's done with whatever she's doing."

"I'll keep that in mind." She turned her attention to Tom, who had been running scans in search of their missing crew members. He shrugged, but she required a bit more than a subtle gesture. "Mr. Paris?"

"I can't find them, and I can't figure out why I can't. It's like they're not on this planet. Is that possible? Could they have ended up on this planet's moon?"

Tuvok answered, "Most things are possible, Mr. Paris. In this case, however, such an event is highly unlikely."

"We've pushed the range of our scanners as far as we can, so unless we want to take an away team to widen the scope of our search…" He shrugged again for emphasis.

"I have reason to believe that those robots we encountered may know where Naomi is. Lt. Arkinson reported having heard one say her name, which suggests to me that it or its fellows came into contact with her."

"Or it was hot, and he was scared, and he has no idea what he heard." Tom grimaced. "I'm sorry if I'm speaking out of turn, Captain, but-"

"But this is our only lead at the moment." She silenced his further complaints with a terse look. While she understood his frustration, she had no patience at the moment for his lackadaisical attitude toward her rank and his position. Thankfully, the tense moment was interrupted as the door hissed and Seven entered. The mere sight of the blonde was a breathe of fresh air, and Janeway's expression lightened. "Seven, glad you could join us."

"My apologies for my tardiness. I was regenerating, and doing so required more time than I realized." Seven took her seat. "Continue."

"We were just discussing what to do about both the robots and our missing crew members."

Although Seven kept her features blank, she felt nebulous guilt swirling in her chest. The little girl was her friend, more so than most people on Voyager. Naomi's disappearance wasn't her fault, but she'd spent more time recovering than she had trying to help. Now, however, she had a chance to perhaps do some good.

"I was able to recover and process data from the unit Lt. Paris disabled."

Janeway's lips curled into a smile. "Did you discover anything useful?"

She nodded. "These robots are not native to Pylos. They are from a neighboring system, specifically from the planet Arphine Beta. Not unlike us, they came to Pylos to mine beryllium and were grounded due to the intense solar interference."

"Is there a chance the people of Arphine Beta will come looking for their miners?"

"If they had, it would have been many years ago. There was approximately a decade's worth of data stored on the robot's hard drive. There may have been more, but many of the older files had been purged, likely to make room for new information. What remained, other than data on their mining operation, was its core programming. They were originally programmed with protective subroutines; if the mine or their product is threatened, they respond with a show of force."

"Do you know how many robots there are?" Tuvok lifted a padd, ready to update his notes.

"There were nearly three dozen at one point, but I don't know how many have been disabled or deactivated since their arrival."

"Could you guide an away team to the mine?"

Seven inclined her head once more. "And through it as well, as long as no significant changes took place after we came into possession of this robot."

"I volunteer to go with." Tom grinned, despite the sharp look B'Elanna gave him. "Harry's out there."

Janeway appreciated his loyalty to his friend and saw no reason to deny his request. "Very well. Tuvok, do you have a recommendation for a security officer who won't unnecessarily cause a conflict?"

"I will submit a list of possibilities."

"Tom, you and Seven will meet up with your security officer at 0800 hours tomorrow morning. I expect you all to be careful. If our technology has suffered on this planet after only a few days, then there's no telling how these robots have degraded during their time here. Take the day to plan and rest."

Neelix, who had been uncharacteristically silent during the meeting, finally cleared his throat and caught her eye. "What can I do, Captain?"

"Now, more than ever, we need our Morale Officer," she replied. There was something a bit off about him, although she couldn't put her finger on what. His reticence was worrisome, but they were all tired. That he was merely as exhausted as the rest of them was quite probable. She would log her concern away and check in on him again later. Just one more worry to juggle, she thought with grim humor. "Do you think you could prepare a large, festive meal for tonight?"

He perked up and nodded. "I'll do what I can, Captain, and I won't disappoint you."

"You never do. You're all dismissed."

"Captain?"

She shifted her attention to Seven, who had stood but hadn't left. "Yes?"

"You should rest."

"I'll have time later." The thought of sleeping, however, yanked a yawn from her. She covered her mouth and cocked an eyebrow. "Well, perhaps sooner rather than later."

Seven moved to her side, gently gripped her elbow, and helped her to her feet. Although she didn't truly mind the physical contact, she sputtered about how much she had to do and how she didn't have time for this. Ignoring this, Seven guided her to the bridge, into the turbolift, and onto deck three. Seven stopped only when they reached the door to her quarters, where Janeway couldn't resist inviting her inside.

"I will only keep you awake."

"Just for a few minutes. We may not have another chance to finish our discussion for a while if you don't."

Suddenly eager, Seven followed her in and even forewent her custom of remaining standing to hurry things along. Janeway smiled at her companion's enthusiasm; her being tired, she realized, made accessing her feelings a bit easier, as she no longer felt as inhibited or restricted by circumstance and decorum. This conversation should prove more effective, she thought as she placed a hand on Seven's knee.

"Where were we?"

"We were discussing how dedication to duty and work may pose a problem in pursuing a romantic liaison."

"Right. Have you given it anymore thought?"

"I was unaware that I should. I have already decided."

"You shouldn't rush into a relationship-"

"You are presuming my interest was piqued by our interaction by the river, rather than understanding that my attraction began long before. I have had months to consider my options, as well as the consequences of each."

"Ah."

"Do you require time?" Seven's brow furrowed, as if she hadn't considered the possibility. "I am willing to wait."

"I don't need time." Janeway sighed. "As much as I'd like a closer relationship with you, that's not the only thing that matters."

"I wish for a relationship, and you wish for one as well. Everything else is negligible."

"Seven…"

"You're worried about your duty to this ship. I understand your priorities and do not mind." Seven covered Janeway's hand with her own. "Every excuse you can come up with to discourage me can be rationalized and discarded, yet you continue to invent new reasons. Am I to understand that you lied before? That you do not actually wish for a relationship?"

"No."

"If you aren't interested, I am capable of hearing the truth."

Janeway leaned forward and kissed her, cutting off further words as she decided actions would prove her point better than a few hastily thought up remarks. Seven's free hand slipped along her neck, and she melted into the gentle touch.

"I am interested," she whispered when they parted. "However, I am aware that you lack experience. I could not with good conscience agree without making a satisfactory effort to inform you of what being with me will entail. The good and the bad."

Seven rested her forehead against Janeway's. "I've done thorough research."

"Research and experience are different."

"Then you'll have to be patient."

"Aren't I always?" Seven smirked, but before she could retort, Janeway added, "I don't think I want to hear your answer."

"I could prepare a detailed report-"

"Unnecessary, Seven."

"I was merely attempting to engage in light teasing."

"As was I." Janeway squeezed her knee and leaned back.

Seven sat for a moment in silence and then hesitantly asked, "What is the next step?"

"You could join me for dinner."

"What about the meal you told Neelix to create?"

"We can show up, but we don't need to eat there."

"Shouldn't you rest?"

"I need to eat just as much as I need to sleep, and so do you."

Seven stood. "How may I help?"

At her command, Seven went to collect dishes to set the table, while she programmed two meals in the replicator. Her chest tightened momentarily as she remembered how she and Mark used to do much the same thing in San Francisco, and a bout of homesickness crashed through her. She supposed she ought to be grateful that she could find comfort and kindness, even dozens of thousands of lightyears from home. By the time she brought the meals to the table, she'd banished her unhappy feelings. She knew she'd have to deal with them eventually but preferred to enjoy her evening with Seven.

* * *

Tom hefted his pack onto his shoulders and kissed B'Elanna's cheek. She'd already warned him that a fate worse than death awaited him if he did something as foolish as dying on this away mission, and he wanted something a bit sweeter to remember their parting interaction by. She shoved him away with a small, quickly hidden smile.

"We'll be back before you know it."

"Not soon enough."

"You'll be so distracted with getting thrusters back online, you won't even notice."

Bringing up her current snafu was the perfect way to distract her, he decided, as her eyes immediately narrowed. She was going to start ranting, by the looks of it, so he kissed her again and fled. Rolling her eyes, she let him go and headed back toward Engineering. Glancing around a corner, she spotted Seven and Janeway speaking in low tones. She sensed they didn't want to be interrupted and so waited out of sight for them to finish their conversation. Her eyes widened as Janeway kissed Seven's cheek before Seven hurried in the same direction Tom had gone.

She pressed herself to the bulkhead to avoid being spotted; as soon as the blonde was gone, she proceeded along as if nothing had happened. She met Janeway near the entrance to Engineering and fought to keep from laughing.

"Captain."

"Lt. Torres." Seemingly distracted, Janeway turned her attention to B'Elanna slowly.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Hm? Oh… Yes, actually. I came to check on the thrusters."

"You had promised to send Seven to help…?"

B'Elanna wasn't certain, but she could have sworn she spotted a faint color in Janeway's cheeks. This was juicy gossip, although for once, she wasn't tempted to talk to anyone but Tom about what she'd seen before. B'Elanna had never seen her react in such a fashion, not even when the rumors about her and Chakotay were prevalent, or even when she'd had to seduce or charm people they came across to smooth their passage.

"I'm here in her stead. I may not have the full extent of the Collective's knowledge at my disposal, but I do have years of experience."

"I won't turn you away." B'Elanna gestured for Janeway to enter Engineering before her. "The problem is that every time we get close, we find some new problem. It's breaking faster than we can fix it."

"That's an interesting problem."

"My next step is going to be trying to use an algorithm to figure out what might break, so we can get ahead of the problem."

"Smart." Janeway pushed her sleeves up. "What can I do?"

* * *

"What are they doing?" Harry wiped juice from his chin and watched yet another robot roll up with a scrap of metal, which it deposited at Naomi's feet. It repeated Naomi's name a few times and then went about its business. Once it was gone, Harry squatted by the metal and peered at its surface. He had deduced the robots were miners from watching them chip away at their current cavern, but this metal looked processed and crafted, which suggested it wasn't something a robot had simply pulled from a wall.

She shrugged. "They've been doing this for a while. Sometimes it's metal, and sometimes it's something to eat or drink."

"I presume you asked them for food and water?" Icheb placed a hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

"No, but I'm glad they helped me. I was really hungry. That one over there is my friend. I named him Scratchy because of the big scratch on his front."

Harry saw no point in assigning these robots names, but he had no intention of making Naomi any more uncomfortable in his presence than she already was. "Yeah?"

"He led me here, and he learned my name first."

"Do you believe he might provide us with a sample of the minerals in this mountain?"

"Maybe? All he can say is my name." She scrunched her nose. "But we could ask."

She skipped to his side and tapped on his outer casing. He swiveled around, beeped her name, and waited. After several attempts at telling him what she wanted, she lifted her hands in defeat. She returned to her companions with nothing to show for her efforts.

"We could follow one and see where it deposits what it mined," Harry suggested.

Icheb had considered that already, but he had deemed the act theft, as they did not have permission to take anything that the robots didn't offer. Then again, Terrans seemed to think of non-sentient beings as somehow lesser; Icheb, however, decided that these robots were alive and worthy of respect. After all, many persons captured by the Borg became more machine than their original race, but he didn't think that robbed them of their sentience. That respect extended to the material that they mined from the mountain.

"I don't think that's a very sound idea," he tried, but Harry was off and down a tunnel before he could finish. Now that he had found Naomi again, he determined that he ought to stay with his young friend rather than follow his haphazard leader. She was doing very well on her own, and he preferred her company to Harry's.

"They won't be happy."

"Perhaps not."

Another robot rolled over and dropped a piece of metal. There were vague scorch marks on its body, and on further inspection, Icheb noted something familiar about the new metal scrap. The marking was Terran, which meant there was either another Alpha Quadrant vessel on the planet, or these robots were taking parts from Voyager.


	6. Reunions

6: Reunions

Walking into engineering, Janeway did her best to keep the bounce from her step and the smile from her lips. Such behavior was hardly befitting someone of her station, and she didn't want to attract attention to her sudden boost in mood. While she wasn't ashamed of what was blossoming between herself and Seven, she also wanted to maintain their privacy a bit longer. Nothing would detract from her enjoyment more than the meddling or criticism of others-and she was definitely enjoying herself. The evening prior had exceeded her expectations, although she hadn't thought she had any. While her fingers flew over the nearest console and ran a diagnostic, she luxuriated in her memories.

Tapping her hyperspanner idly against her hand, B'Elanna leaned toward Janeway. "So…"

Disappointed that her musing had been interrupted, Janeway paused and glanced over. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"How is your leg?"

"Much better."

"Did you have a chance to talk to Seven before she left?"

And much more, Janeway mused. Although they'd done little more than kiss, she felt her connection to Seven had intensified pleasantly. She'd been afraid that allowing Seven close would distract her from her duties, but she was more efficient than ever. Still, to admit any of this to B'Elanna, who would undoubtedly spread the news to others, would be to publicize the relationship, and she wasn't quite ready to lose the intimacy, yet.

"Yes. I appreciate the hard work you put into getting the transporters online quickly enough to save her."

"It's what I do."

"With your attention to detail, I have faith that we'll get these thrusters back in no time." Satisfied that she had guided their conversation away from personal topics, she focused again on her console. "I'm running a preliminary diagnostic to get a better idea of where we're starting from today."

B'Elanna watched her a moment longer, but presumably decided that personal conversations could be had later. "I can also show the patterns I've noticed, but I figured it'd be better if you looked over the data without my input first."

"Exactly what I was going to suggest."

At B'Elanna's instruction, Janeway pulled up the necessary data files and perused the numbers with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. Consistent with B'Elanna's report, there were a number of times when the thrusters had broken just after a fix had been implemented to solve another issue. Were she not so certain of her crew, she would have thought there was a saboteur in their ranks. She didn't think, however, that anyone wanted to be trapped on this planet any longer than they needed to be.

She scrolled back up through the data and hummed under her breath. Most of the problems seemed to stem from the decay or malfunction of the ship's parts. In order to get ahead of dysfunction, they'd need to determine the status of every piece, decide which were most at risk, and focus their attentions. Otherwise, they could be at this for years without much progress. From the looks of it, she didn't know which part would break next, but she had hopes that B'Elanna might.

"Our next step should be to run a full diagnostic on the engines."

B'Elanna gestured to her console. "I got started on that while you were reading."

"Time table?"

"Should be completed in twenty minutes-unless the diagnostic tool breaks, too."

Janeway admired that B'Elanna maintained a wry sense of humor despite the situation, but she didn't have time for much more than a grim smile in acknowledgement. "In the meantime, fill me in on the patterns you saw."

"You didn't catch anything?"

"I caught enough to get the general idea, but this is your engine room."

B'Elanna grinned and explained what she'd uncovered thus far.

Several decks away, Neelix surveyed his mess hall with a much lighter heart. He'd been certain that throwing a feast the night before was only the captain's way of trying to make him feel useful; however, while hosting the event, he'd remembered that he didn't just feel that way-he actually was essential to this crew. Despite the circumstances, he'd seen a number of genuinely happy faces. That he could bring that sort of peace and joy to others warmed his heart, even as his stomach roiled with thoughts of the ensign.

The problem was that this crash had separated everyone and not just physically. Neelix considered himself particularly sensitive to the emotional needs of his friends and crewmates-probably the most sensitive after Kes had left-and he could tell that there was a dire need for connection. The idea had struck him after he'd seen the captain and Seven chatting quietly together. They were positioned much closer than they usually were, and he'd spotted Janeway's hand on the small of Seven's back. The sight had made him curious, but he knew better than to pry into the captain's business. Still, an idea had niggled into his brain-that two very different people could come together in times of duress.

Since there was nobody around looking for a meal and the hall was cleaned to his satisfaction, he returned to his quarters and pulled up the crew roster on a padd. There were a few people who tended to eat alone, as well as a few people between whom there was animosity. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. Obviously, he couldn't force people together, but maybe he could convince the captain to change up the duty roster while they were stuck on this planet. She was probably willing, especially if he mentioned what a positive impact seeing she and Seven together had had on the crew. He'd heard her mentioning something about a happy captain leading a happy crew, and boy, the proof was in the Nelopian Pudding.

She might resist adding any sort of tension given the current situation, but there was so much to be gained from his matchmaking-while he would be putting contentious individuals together, they would learn to work together and get along, and wasn't that the point of star travel: to discover friends even among perceived enemies? Certainly, he hadn't trusted anyone on Voyager when they met, but most everyone aboard had quickly become incredibly meaningful to him.

He stared down at his list of names and settled his finger atop the first: Icheb. The boy was distant from most of the crew, which wasn't surprising. From what Neelix could tell, being raised by the Borg had a profound impact on one's approach to life. Yet, Seven had definitely grown from her interactions with an Earth-grown human being, so Icheb would, too. He was stiff, but Neelix could sense his desire to fit in with the crew at large. Among the Borg, acceptance was immediate and conditioned only on functionality; with humans, though, Icheb was struggling. At least he wasn't as isolated as Seven had been. A little pushing from his good friend Neelix would indubitably send him in the right direction.

At that moment, the subject of Neelix's thoughts stood and pondered going after Harry, who had departed rather quickly. He felt duty-bound to ensure that Harry did not come to serious harm, but he was much too curious about the pieces of Voyager that were showing up at Naomi's feet. She was the key to these robots, or so his gut was telling him. Gut feelings and hunches were rather strange, and he hadn't quite gotten the hang of them. The Borg had no use for non-evidence-based suppositions, but now that he was free, he was getting them more and more. Tuvok, of all crewmembers, had helped him understand the odd responses he was having to various situations and had counseled him in how to balance what he felt with what he knew. When the two were at odds, decisions were troublesome. Now, however, there was nothing to interfere.

"Do you know what these are?"

Naomi tilted her head and stared at the metal scraps before her. "Not really."

"The markings on them suggest that the robots are taking them from Voyager."

"Why would they do that?"

Icheb shook his head, unwilling to provide mere guesswork as an answer. "I was hoping you might know. They seem to be bringing everything to you."

"Lemme think…" Naomi ran her fingers along her horns. Several minutes passed before she grabbed Icheb's non-injured wrist. "I drew them a picture of Voyager before. I wanted them to bring me there, but maybe they're bringing Voyager here, instead."

"Could you instruct them to stop?"

"They don't speak our language."

"And our comm badges are ineffective?"

"I guess so."

Icheb cradled his arm and sat down. He rarely missed the apathy of being Borg, but he couldn't say he enjoyed experiencing pain. The sensation interfered with thinking, which in turn put both him and his charge in danger. Sitting helped, however, and he took several deep breaths to clear his mind.

"You drew a picture to begin this, correct? Could you draw a different picture to change their behavior?"

"I don't know…" Naomi glanced at the robots, all of which were rolling about and paying no mind to either humanoid. "If I did this on accident, I don't know what would happen if I tried something on purpose."

"What do you suggest instead?"

Although she hated to admit defeat, there were times when doing so seemed prudent. She plopped down beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder. "We could just wait. I'm sure they're gonna come find us sooner or later."

He hoped for the former, but he rationally knew that later was more likely. Due to the theft of Voyager's parts, the captain was probably dealing with larger problems than where a few of her crewmen were. Still, if Janeway was involved with finding the robots, that could lead a rescue party to this cavern-two birds with one stone, he believed the saying went.

* * *

The security officer Tuvok assigned to this mission struck Seven as a bit too at ease. She understood that Janeway wanted no incidents, but Ensign Murphy didn't seem at all alert. If an attack occurred, he would not have time to draw his firearm or offer significant protection.

"Relax," Tom muttered, stepping up beside her. "You look so stiff that a breeze could snap you in half."

She shot him a terse look. While he had a point, she didn't appreciate his attempt at controlling her. He was not an authority figure, and she resented when he presumed to know better. "The chances of that scenario occurring are-"

"I know. You'd think after all this time around me, you'd know how exaggeration works."

"I do. However, the practice is inefficient. There is no functionality in imprecision."

He shrugged. "It's just part of informal chatting, Seven. Not everything has to be spot on. It's not like we're talking hard science right now."

"I think I would prefer that." She glanced toward Murphy, who strode ahead confidently and without worry. If she were prone to exaggeration, she would submit that Murphy wouldn't recognize danger if he were shot in the face. Instead, she merely glowered at his lack of care.

"Worried about security? Don't be. Murphy's a pretty steady guy, and he knows what his orders are."

"Hm."

He looped his arm around her shoulders as best he could despite the height difference. "Y'know, I thought you'd be a little less uptight today."

"Explain." She removed his offending limb from her body and stepped away. While she was curious as to his reasoning, she kept her eyes roving the trees. If their security officer wouldn't be careful, she would have to keep her wits about her.

"Well, I just saw the way you and Janeway were all snuggled up last night at the feast."

Her concentration wavered. "I do not know what you mean."

"I think you do."

Furtively, she glanced at Murphy, who gave no indication of being able to hear this conversation. She didn't feel comfortable unloading all her newfound feelings on Tom, but she supposed he would have some useful advice regarding romance. He was, after all, in a long-term, functioning relationship.

"The captain and I entertain one another with our discussions."

"This looked a little closer than that." His lips curled up. "Like-"

"I do not need to hear any of your exaggerations or suggestions, Lt. Paris."

He lifted his hands in defeat. "All I was going to say was that if you wanted to talk to someone about it, I can keep my mouth shut sometimes."

"You would tell Lt. Torres."

"Well…"

"And she would tell the Maquis, who would in turn tell the rest of the crew."

"So, what you're saying is that there is something going on, and nobody can know about it."

Seven faltered. She had let her guard down, as she didn't consider Tom a threatening person. This lack of care, however, had led to mistakenly appraising him as incapable of manipulation. Because he had discovered this much, she supposed there would be no additional harm if she elaborated further.

"Yes."

His eyebrows launched up his forehead. "Seriously?"

"I would thank you to moderate your volume."

"Yeah, sorry. I just didn't expect you to just tell me. I thought this would be a long walk full of me weedling my way to the truth."

"I decided to save you the effort." She deftly moved through the thickening trees, hoping all the while that the map she'd recovered from that robot was still accurate. There wasn't as much to worry about anymore, as the transporters were purportedly functioning. Yet, she didn't want to take more risk than necessary-especially now that Janeway was counting on her returning without injury. "We have decided to begin a courtship."

"A courtship, huh?"

"I have stated my interest, and she has accepted."

"That's a little antiquated, is all I meant."

"According to my research, there are many Terran societies that continue to-"

"I know." He lifted his hand, both to cut her off and to push an offending branch out of his way. "But don't let me be a distraction. You were telling me about asking the captain out?"

"I suppose that's an adequate description."

"That took some guts."

She considered informing him that while the Borg had taken many organs from her at one point or another, she still had the requisite amount of guts. However, she faintly understood that he wasn't being literal and so chose not to address the comment. Although he could be grating, Tom might actually be able to provide useful feedback-not to mention that merely stating these things to someone else eased some of her anxiety.

"Janeway was concerned about her duties as captain."

"I guess that's gotta be a big weight on her shoulders. Part of a relationship is taking special care of your partner."

"Special care."

"Like in terms of your priorities, they're supposed to be higher up than other people."

Seven arched the implant over her eye. "Captain Janeway has been my top priority for much longer than our relationship."

"You've liked her for a while, huh?"

"She is appealing."

"Not my taste, but I think that's mostly because B'Elanna's as much of a woman as I need. Have you ever eaten a food that's so spicy it burns the taste buds on your tongue?"

"No. My nutritional supplements are programmed for their contents not their flavors."

"Doesn't matter."

"Lt. Torres is kept busy in Engineering." Seven paused as she spotted a dark cave entrance in the distance. She pointed this out to her companions before falling into step beside Tom once more. "How do you maintain a functioning relationship?"

"It's all about the romance, Sev. And you've asked the right guy-I'm bet I'm the most romantic guy this side of the galaxy."

She severely doubted this claim, but she was more interested in what he had to say rather than correcting his misapprehension. "I have read a good deal about romance."

"You can't learn romance from books. You've got to get a feel for what your woman likes."

"Captain Janeway enjoys books of classic poetry and cups of hot, black coffee."

"That's a start. But how about back massages? Cooking her dinner? Bringing her flowers?"

"Those were in the books I read. Do you have original information to offer?" He huffed, but she noted his breathing was already a bit harsher due to the temperature. Conscious that other humans required breaks, she lifted her hand to halt Murphy. "We will take ten minutes to recover before we enter the tunnels."

"Oh thank goodness." Murphy collapsed promptly to the ground.

"I have plenty of original information, but you seemed new to the idea."

"Information about what?"

Seven glanced at Murphy and then shot a pointed look at Tom, who seemingly ignored her. "Seven's looking for some tips on romance."

"I am trying to expand my social repertoire," she hurried to explain in case Murphy thought too much of the inquiry.

"My boyfriend back home really liked when I left him a video message of me smiling." Murphy sighed and leaned back. "He was really into that corny, personal stuff."

Seven wasn't sure if Janeway would feel the same; the matter would require further investigation. She pondered her vast knowledge and wondered if there were perhaps a recipe for some sort of coffee-like beverage that she could prepare. That would show a consideration of Janeway's desires and would function as a display of her domestic skills.

"B'Elanna likes when I remember we have plans."

"I would have thought that to be an essential component of a relationship, rather than a premium."

He snorted. "It's different for everyone."

"So, have anyone in mind, Seven?"

"I am merely compiling resources and information."

"Don't get your hopes up, Murph. I don't think she's interested in you."

She noted the color rising in the ensign's cheeks. She had never interacted with this man, yet he appeared to be attracted to her purely based on her looks. She hoped this wasn't the case with Janeway.

"I am not."

"No, of course not. I was just curious. Sometimes we don't have a lot to do, so some fresh news would have really freshened up the conversation around Voyager."

"You will not discuss this conversation with anyone."

"Oh, no. Of course not."

Finished with the conversation, Seven turned her attention back to the trees. Their conversation meandered in other directions, and as soon as her internal clock had counted down, she herded them both into the tunnel.

* * *

Harry skidded to a halt just before he ran smack into the rear of a robot. The darn thing halted abruptly, without any warning, and he was lucky that his reflexes were sharp enough to react in time. He knew nobody was watching, so there would be no witnesses if he messed things up. However, he wanted this to be one of his shining moments: he'd snag some of the minerals, return to Voyager, and be solely responsible for saving the day. Well, significantly responsible. More than a little at the very least.

He huffed and brushed his uniform off. There was little point in the gesture, as he was filthy from the tunnels, but he felt doing so added a bit more to his stature. Once he was done, he straightened his shoulders and examined his surroundings, which were definitely a bit darker and dustier than the cavern. The walls were full of pits and pockets, and robots were carting debris to different piles.

Since the robots weren't paying attention to him, he scooted closer to the nearest heap, which appeared to be cast-offs. There was nothing sparkling or otherwise interesting in that mound, so he headed for the next. This was slightly more alluring, as the bits and pieces in this one were metallic in nature. They might be valuable-this line of thought cut off as he spotted the final pile. Unable to resist, he reached down and grazed his fingers along the smooth, black orbs that comprised the stack. They were impossibly round, he noted. Whatever they were, they didn't fall apart when the robots mined them, nor did they pick up any scratches, nicks, or scuffs.

He glanced toward the robots.

None of them were facing his direction, so he selected three orbs and deftly tucked them into his pocket. He would borrow them for a bit of analysis later, and then, if he had time, he'd bring them back. Besides, there were plenty, and they would hardly miss the few he'd taken.

"Thanks for the tour, guys." He lifted his hand as he departed and grinned. Before he could walk three paces, however, he felt a searing pain in his side. He dropped to the ground with a groan, hand clutching to a soggy patch on his uniform. Dreading what he'd find, he brought his shaking hand to his face. On spotting the blood, he cried for help, but he knew he was out of luck. The only people near enough to hear him were Naomi and Icheb; the rest of the tunnels were empty.

Contrary to Harry's assumption, the away team moved deeper into the tunnels. The farther they traveled, the clearer the readings on Seven's implant. Curious, she withdrew her tricorder and aimed the device at the wall. Tom leaned casually beside her.

"They still aren't working quite right, yet."

She showed him the results, and his eyes narrowed. "Mine appears to be in fine working condition now."

"Huh." He pulled his out and replicated her test. "I wonder what it means."

"There is likely something in the composite materials of this mountain that resist the intense interference of the suns."

"Think we can mine it?"

"I think the robots have been doing that," she replied, "and I do not think they would take kindly to our intrusion. At the moment, we are tourists. The moment we become miners, we would also likely become thieves per their original instructions."

"So, let's not do that, hm?" Murphy ran his fingers along the wall before turning to face Seven. "Ready?"

She had been ready, and she clenched her jaw at the implication that the group was waiting on her rather than the other way around. "Indeed. Follow me."

The tunnels seemed to twist and turn with no particular pattern. They were carved by the random path of the mining robots, who roamed from deposit to deposit, ever questing for minerals that nobody would use. She was grateful for the map she had assimilated, which shortened their journey. They soon found themselves in a cavern full of robots.

She was grateful to notice two humans crouched by the far wall. Naomi spotted her moments later and sprinted over, nearly tackling Seven to the ground in her enthusiasm for a hug. Icheb followed more slowly and merely dipped his head. Seven mirrored the greeting and took note of the awkward fashion in which he held his arm to his body.

"Are you injured?"

"My arm is broken."

"And you?" Seven transferred her concern to Naomi. She hoped all was well with the young girl, as she didn't want to have a hysterical mother wailing in her arms on their return.

"I'm okay. The robots have been taking care of us."

"You can communicate with them?"

"Not really. But they're pretty nice."

"I believe they have been removing parts from Voyager. The captain needs to be notified immediately."

"Easy there, Icheb," Tom broke in. "Janeway already knows. We're trying to figure out how to stop them. That's actually how we found you."

"It's my fault. I'm sorry…" Naomi released Seven and twisted her fingers together. She looked mournfully up at Seven. "I drew the picture that made them think I wanted them to do it."

"You have not behaved inappropriately."

Naomi brightened. Satisfied that there was no crisis waiting in the form of Naomi's guilt or Icheb's health, Seven surveyed the room. "Have you had contact with Ensign Kim?"

"He was here a little while ago."

"The ensign followed a robot approximately fifteen minutes ago. He wanted to obtain a mining sample for the captain. We have not heard from him since."

Tom's hand lighted on Seven's shoulder. "We have to find him."

She nodded curtly. "Murphy, remain with Naomi and Icheb."

He saluted and sat down, content with his orders. After Naomi pointed in the direction Harry had gone, Seven consulted her mental map and determined the most likely location Harry had ended up. She set off at a brisk pace with Tom on her heels. He wanted to move more quickly, she could tell, but she didn't want to go anywhere unknown without taking precautions like examining their surroundings.

He needed her guidance, however, so he stayed next to her-until they heard a groan echoing down the tunnel. Despite her demands to the contrary, he sprinted off alone. Tom was an excellent pilot, she reminded herself, even if he was a fairly terrible subordinate. Not even that thought calmed her frustration, but she couldn't leave him to his own devices for long; she broke into a jog, hoping all the while that he wasn't getting himself into trouble.

Tom, meanwhile, had gotten thirty yards down the tunnel before he skidded into a shallow hole where several robots were going about their business. He spotted a blood trail leading straight to a pair of boots. Heart racing, he bent over Harry and assessed the unconscious man's wounds. While the wound would be easy to fix on Voyager, he wasn't sure what could be done immediately. Without some sort of care, Harry would bleed out, and Tom wasn't about to let that happen.

"Seven, I found him!"

Rather than wait for her arrival, he yanked his red and black overshirt off. Balling the garment up, he applied pressure to Harry's wound. One of these damn robots had nearly killed his friend. There was no point in raging at the machines, so he focused his attention on Harry.

"Is he alive?"

He twisted his head to look at Seven and nodded. "We have to get him help, though, and quickly. I don't know how much longer he'll last."

"Murphy has the emergency kit. There is a dermal regenerator within." Seven silently cursed that they had not brought the device with them, but when they left the main cavern, she hadn't considered the probability of injury in such a short time span.

Tom crouched low, lugged Harry up as gently as he could, and stood. He took one step away, but Seven raised her hand and halted him. At his anxiety-laden inquiry, she gestured to the robots behind him.

"I do not believe they want us to leave."

"We have to go."

"If you take another step, I will have to deal with both you and Harry, so I request you remain where you are until we can sort through this."

"Well, hurry up. He doesn't have forever."

She was well aware of the time restriction, so his reminder was grating. She approached a robot, her assimilation tubules extending out eagerly. Forcibly beginning the assimilation process, she opened her mind to new information, which flooded in. For several seconds, she was overwhelmed.

"He took their mithryte."

"Their what?"

"Mithryte," she repeated. "Small dark globes. Remove them before you take him to Murphy."

She watched Tom search Harry's pockets and frowned as he removed the stolen goods. Taking them from Tom, she waved Tom down the hallway and returned the mithryte to its pile. Intrigued by the mineral, she withdrew her tricorder and assessed its components. The results caused her ocular implant to rise. Based on what she saw, there was the potential that this mineral could help with their problems on Voyager. To verify this, she'd need more advanced technology; however, repeating Harry's action at this point seemed to be a death wish.

Naomi had changed their behavior previously. She was willing to bet the young girl could do so again. At the very least, Seven could interface with one of the robots and provide Naomi a more direct line of communication. With this in mind, Seven returned to the cavern. A glance at Tom assured her that Harry was being tended to, so she strode to Naomi's side.

"I understand that you communicated with these robots previously."

"Yes." Naomi stood a little taller and straightened her posture. "I drew a picture, and then they started bringing parts."

"Did you do anything prior that might have attracted their attention?"

"I… I beeped at them. Like, mimicked the noise they made. Then I told them my name, and they wouldn't stop saying it." Expression darkening, Naomi let her frustration crease her forehead.

"You appear to have some sway with them. Have you attempted further communication?"

"Yes, but they didn't listen."

"Very well."

"I'm sorry-"

"Do not apologize," Seven replied, attempting a gentle smile. The expression felt foreign, but she wanted Naomi to relax. "You have done nothing wrong."

"I could try again."

Naomi waited for Seven's approval and then scooted through the roving robots. Selecting the one she'd deemed Scratchy, she cleared her throat and beeped. The robot swiveled toward her, beeped back, and flashed several tiny lights. Unable to make any lights in return, Naomi sighed and turned to Seven.

"A good effort," Seven stated. She moved forward and extended her hand. "May I assist you?"

"Yes, of course." Naomi backed away, allowing Seven closer.

Seven's tubules launched forth once more, and Seven watched Naomi in her peripheral vision. Naomi had initially been terrified of her, and although the little girl had come around to friendliness, Seven was aware that seeing something so jarringly Borg might frighten Naomi. In spite of Seven's fears, Naomi watched curiously, stepping closer to get a better look.

"Does that hurt?"

"No."

"What does it feel like?"

The question gave Seven pause. She had never considered what her tubules felt like; they were undoubtedly an extension of herself. Yet rather than coming from her flesh, they sprang out of her implant. Were the implant hooked to her nerves, she supposed she might feel something-but instead, there was was nothing. Before Janeway's intrusion into her emotions, she had thought the same about her ability to love. For the sake of Naomi's curiosity, she retracted and extended the tubule again.

"Curl and then uncurl your finger," she finally settled on. "Do you feel that?"

"A little. Like the muscles?"

"This is like your finger, a part of me. Using this is no different."

"Well, that's good. I was worried."

Naomi was genuine and soft spoken. Seven warmed at the statement, and for a second, she wondered what having children of her own might be like. She was clearly in need of regeneration and time to let her mind process everything that had occurred as her emotional response was no longer predictable.

Focusing on her task, she inserted the tubules, linked into the robot's main computer, and opened a line of communication. "What would you like to say to it?"

Naomi nibbled on her lower lip. "Maybe, thank you for the food?"

"I will translate." Seven sent the information along in binary format and then quickly decoded the response. "They say that providing you provisions was of no difficulty."

"Tell them that they have to stop bringing parts of the ship."

"They thought you wished for the ship."

"I wanted to go there." Naomi folded her arms over her chest.

"They will no longer appropriate parts from the ship, if that is what Naomi wants."

"Good. That's what I want."

"Will you ask them for a sample of their minerals?"

"Okay."

Hoping her bid would work, Seven sent the message and waited. While the previous responses had been immediate, this time the robot was silent for nearly a minute. "Outsiders are not to take their product."

"Oh…"

"We will discuss the matter with the captain. There is a chance that we might barter for their goods. While we may not take the minerals, we may be able to trade for them. However, without the captain's consent, we are stuck." Seven coded one final message, asking the robot to accompany them to the ship. They beeped their assent, and Seven withdrew her tubules. "We should get Harry back to the ship as quickly as possible. Tom, is he stable enough to move?"

"Should be. We can't jolt him around, though."

"Very well. I will help you carry him in front. Naomi and Icheb, follow, and Murphy, you will accompany the robot at the rear."

* * *

Janeway sat in the empty mess hall and reveled in the silence. She couldn't remember ever being in here with this much solitude; even in the middle of the night, there were officers milling through between shifts or unable to sleep. Now, however, she was blissfully alone. She'd left B'Elanna working on the thrusters, claiming a mild headache, and reassured her Chief of Engineering that she'd be back before too long. Sitting by herself made that a difficult promise to keep, so she had convinced herself to at least eat something while she was there.

Although Neelix wasn't around, the replicators were functioning within reasonable parameters, and her order had only been somewhat incorrect. Still, having meatloaf made of turkey rather than beef beat whatever leola root option Neelix was prone to create in emergency situations. The meal was a comfort, and if she tried, she could imagine that she was back in Indiana on her mother's kitchen.

She ate a fair portion of the meatloaf and pushed the rest around her plate with a fork, a terrible habit retained from childhood. While officer training had repressed most of her bad manners, stress tended to resurrect the worst in her. At this point, she wasn't sure what disturbed her more, that Seven had been gone for quite a while or that she missed Seven as terribly as she did. She was a Starfleet captain, after all, and she was supposed to be immune to feelings like this. Her heart seemed to have missed that lesson at the academy.

When the Caretaker had slung Voyager across the galaxy, she'd been ripped away from her fiance and dog, and she hated to admit that she pined more for Bear than for Mark. She'd chalked this up to his being a fully grown adult capable of understanding her loss, while Bear was just an animal who would never know where she'd gone or why. Mark was a safe choice, and she would have had an unremarkable, stable life if she'd married him. Over three years away from him and news of his marriage to someone else had only barely phased her.

Half a day away from Seven, and she was consumed with worries.

They were different worries than she expected. Of course, she cared about the wellbeing of all her crewmembers, but for Seven, there was a depth of concern she'd yet to experience before. While her judgment wasn't impaired by Seven's absence, her mind was distracted, and thoughts of the younger woman popped up inexplicably. She wasn't used to this, and there weren't classes designed to teach weary Starfleet captains how to deal with feeling like a teenager again. The worst part was that she had nobody to confide in and nobody from whom to seek guidance.

She supposed there was Tuvok, who usually advised her, but as a Vulcan, he was definitely not her primary choice regarding sensitive new feelings. Chakotay was reliable, but she hardly wanted to share her woes with him, as he was devoted to her beyond the usual boundaries of a first officer and his captain. That left her with no options but her captain's logs, which functioned well as a means of getting her thoughts out but provided nothing in terms of feedback.

"Bridge to the captain." Tuvok's voice interrupted her reverie, and she sighed softly before responding.

"Janeway here."

"The away team has returned with the missing people."

Janeway straightened, her grasp on her fork tightening. "Status?"

"Two injuries, but the rest are ready for debriefing in the conference room."

"Who-"

"Ensign Kim sustained a critical wound. He has been transported to the sickbay and is receiving treatment. The Doctor says he should fully recover within two days. Icheb's arm had been broken and was tended to immediately on return."

The relief that flooded through Janeway was visceral and heady; for a moment, all she could think was that Seven was safe. Keeping her tone even, she thanked Tuvok for the update and instructed him to maintain the bridge while she met with the returned team. She strode inside the conference room, took her seat at the head of the table, and examined those around her.

Tom looked antsy; she was willing to bet he wanted to be there when Harry awoke. She'd make this quick. Murphy sat beside him, a bit hunched over and hiding a yawn behind one hand. Finishing her survey, she turned her attention to Seven. Despite having calmed herself down, she found her heart racing once more as her searching blue eyes met the fierce steel of Seven's.

"I won't keep you long," she stated, dragging her gaze away. "What happened?"

Tom's report, while informative, was rushed. Under normal circumstances, she might pressure him for more details or scold his lack of care, but she understood the impetus to tend to a loved one. She dismissed him and waited for the other two to report.

"Well, he covered the basics. We arrived at the cavern without incident and entered. Seven of Nine successfully guided us to both Naomi and Icheb, who were in a large cavern full of robots."

"Were these robots like the one found near sickbay?"

"Yes. To the extent of our knowledge, there is only one faction of robots," Seven confirmed. "They were bringing Naomi parts of the ship."

"Any idea why?"

"She drew a picture for them, in an attempt to get home."

"First, she beeped at them," Murphy added. "If that makes a difference…"

"Interesting."Janeway rested her elbow atop the table and cushioned her chin against her palm. If the robots could be communicated with, then perhaps there was a way to enlist their help. According to Tom, Naomi had been returned to her very concerned mother, but eventually, they could gather more details from her about how the initial encounter had gone.

"I was able to connect to one of the robots, and through me, Naomi told them to cease taking parts from the ship."

"Tom mentioned that one of them is in the cargo bay?"

"B'Elanna is scanning their equipment for possible hazards, but I will be attending to them during their stay."

"Will you be able to link into them again?"

"Yes. I believe the robots listen to Naomi, but we may see if they will observe your authority as well."

"Very well."

"They may be willing to trade their product for fair compensation." Seven leaned forward. "Initial scans revealed that the material had not suffered any degradation from the sun's radiation. Indeed, the interior of the mountain was well protected, and our equipment functioned without issue within. If we can obtain some mithryte, we may very well be able to craft a means of protecting Voyager from the solar interference."

"Do you have any idea what they might want in return?"

"No."

Janeway nodded thoughtfully. "Then I suppose my last line of inquiry regards Ensign Kim."

Murphy sighed. "Poor kid. He tried to take some of that myth-right stuff, and the robot blew a hole in him."

"As you might recall, the robots have been programmed to protect their product by means of force if necessary."

"I do seem to recall that, yes." Janeway grimaced. Harry was young and headstrong, despite being less green than when this mission began, and she really didn't want to return to the Alpha Quadrant bearing bad news to his family. "Have a log entry of this mission prepared by 2100 hours tonight. Dismissed."

Seven remained seated while Murphy exited the conference room. He shot her a curious glance, but she stoically ignored him. As soon as she was alone with Janeway, however, she let her expression loosen.

"Captain?"

"Yes, Seven?"

"I would like to extend an invitation to dinner with myself this evening." Seven cocked her head up, uncertain about her wording.

"Oh?"

"We will eat in your quarters for the sake of privacy. I will prepare a meal with the replicator."

"I'm not sure we have time, Seven. There's still a lot that needs to happen."

"I am aware of your obligations to the ship, but I am also aware of the presence of secondary officers who are more than capable of supervising the ship for several hours while you take a few hours to yourself."

"There's no arguing with you, is there?"

Seven allowed herself a small, quirking smile. "After all we have been through, I thought you would have understood that prior to this conversation."

"Fine. I think I can spare a bit of time for dinner."

"Then it is a date." Seven stood abruptly, tipped her head, and left.

Janeway remained in the conference room a moment longer, chuckling under her breath and shaking her head.

* * *

As the Doctor bustled around the biobed, Tom did his best to stay out of the way. If he drew too much attention to himself, the good doc might remember his miniscule medical training and try to recruit him. Thankfully, the Doctor was more prone to curse his incompetence than seek his help.

He watched Harry's still face with a heavy heart. The kid was still alive, but Tom didn't think he'd ever forget the warm, sticky texture of Harry's bloody uniform in his hand. Over the years, he'd come to think of the other man as a younger brother, and seeing Harry prone on the biobed made his throat clench and his stomach churn. He was supposed to look out for Harry, and in this instance, he felt more like a failure than usual.

The Doctor tutted at the sight of him hovering nearby but made no comment. Once the Doctor was clear of Harry's space, Tom shuffled closer and leaned against the wall nearby. He glanced at the Doctor, who was seated in the glass-paned office, and determined that the nosy hologram wouldn't overhear him.

"Harry, man. I don't know why you did what you did, but gotta say, not the smartest move. Couldn't you have waited twenty minutes for us to show up?" Tom rubbed his chin and ducked closer. "I'm not sure what I'd have done if we were any later, and you weren't still breathing. You can't do that to me, you got that?"

"He can't hear you, you know."

Tom ignored the Doctor's unwanted input in favor of hopping up on the biobed opposite Harry's. He was content to wait there until his dark-haired companion woke up; after an away mission, crewmembers usually got at least a day's rest. In these conditions, he'd be lucky to get half a day, but he'd definitely take what he could get.

The doors the sickbay whooshed quietly, and moments later, a hand fell on his shoulder. He looked up at B'Elanna, who squeezed gently.

"How's he doing?"

"He's resting, but the damage isn't fatal. He'll be up and about sooner or later."

"How are you doing?"

"I didn't get injured."

Her hand slipped from his shoulder down his chest. "He's your best friend, Tom."

"He's a scrappy kid, I'll give him that. Shot by a robot and still kicking."

B'Elanna sighed. She was used to Tom utilizing humor to cover up his pain, but sometimes, she wished he'd be open and honest with her about how he was feeling. His childhood had been full of uncaring individuals who impressed on him that his emotional state was unimportant, so she was trying to be patient. However, she was more used to Klingons, who roared their emotions on the battlefield and in the home.

Her hand transferred to his hair, and she tangled her fingers in his short locks. With a sharp tug, she got more of his attention. "Well, if he's going to be fine, why don't you go get some rest while you still have the time?"

"I can rest in here."

"I'm sure the Doctor will have no problem with that. He may even want to have a conversation or two with you."

Tom grimaced. "Look, I just don't want to leave him here."

"You helped me earlier, so let me help you now. C'mon." She took his hand and tugged. "Take three hours to sleep and eat something, and then you can come sit here like a good friend.

"You're not going to let me stay, are you?"

She grinned. "You knew about my stubborn streak before you started dating me."

Giving in, he let her lead him away from Harry's side. As they wandered down the hallway to his quarters, he whispered, "Speaking of dating, you wouldn't believe the conversation I had with Seven."

Her eyes widened-the two in conjunction could only mean something about the captain, which meant they ought to wait until they were secluded in his room. "I think I have something to tell you, too."

"I bet it's nowhere near as juicy as mine."

"We'll see," she countered, waiting for him to open his door. When he did so, she scooted past him and flopped onto his bed. He yanked his dirty tunic off and tossed the garment in the recycler, and then dropped next to her in his grey undershirt. She closed her eyes as his hand rubbed across the bumpy rivulets of her spine. "So, should I go first, or you?"

"Go for it."

"After you left for your away mission, I happened to spot two people in the corridor sharing a kiss."

His hand paused. "Was Seven one of those people."

"Mmhmm."

"And Captain Janeway the other?"

"I'm so glad you know." She laughed. "I was going to talk to you about it, but since you already know, it doesn't feeling like spilling a secret. Do you think they're seeing each other?"

"Seven was asking me about romance while we hiked. Like what we do between our hectic schedules to keep the flame alive."

"She better not be turning us into one of her observational experiments again." A growl rose in her throat, but his hand scratching between her shoulder blades calmed her quickly.

"No, I don't think that's what this was about. She seems really into Janeway, and she just wanted some advice, I guess."

"What did you tell her?"

"Probably nothing she hadn't already assimilated from the databanks. What makes you happy isn't the same things that'll make Janeway happy anyways. At least, I wouldn't think so."

"I don't know," she replied, curling her toes. "I think a back scratch has mass appeal."

"They'll figure it out."

She caught him yawning from the corner of her eye and gestured to the bed. He tucked his legs beneath the covers, and she curled up beside him. There'd be more time to discuss this later.

* * *

"I wish you could have seen it!" Naomi practically skipped next to her mother, completely oblivious to the red rims of Samantha's eyes and the pallor of Samantha's cheeks. "I was telling all the robots what to do, and they did what I said."

"That's great to hear, sweetheart. I was so worried about you."

"I'm almost four already. I'm practically grown up, especially 'cause I'm half Ktarian."

"Forgive me for still expecting you to be my little girl." Samantha managed a watery laugh. "I'll probably worry about you for the rest of our lives."

"I guess that's okay. I was worried about you, too."

"Even with all those robots?"

"Yeah. They brought me food and everything, but nobody tucked me in when I went to sleep."

"I promise you'll get tucked in tonight."

"Thanks, Mom." Naomi traced her fingers along the bulkhead and slowed her pace when she spotted the captain in the distance. Because Janeway looked to be in quite a hurry, she buried her questions down for later.

Rather than speed by them, however, Janeway halted and offered the pair a warm smile. "It's good to see you two together again. I know that must have been difficult."

"You have no idea," Samantha replied, holding Naomi's hand tightly.

"What happened to Scratchy?"

"Scratchy?"

"The robot who came with us. His name is Scratchy."  
"Scratchy is in the cargo bay if you'd like to go say hello."

"Is Seven there, too?"

"Oh… No, Seven is filling me in on the away mission over dinner. Would you like me to say hello to her for you?"

Naomi nodded. "Yes, please."

"I can do that. You two have a nice evening." Janeway set off again, wondering if either mother or daughter had caught the flush in her cheeks at the mention of Seven's whereabouts. Having Seven in her quarters was nothing to be embarrassed about, and she strove to keep that in mind when interacting with the crew.

Taking the turbolift, Janeway returned to deck three and made her way back to her quarters. Seven had been given special access, but she didn't expect the younger woman to be about; she anticipated at least forty minutes of time for preparation. She wanted to take a sonic shower, change into something more comfortable, and perhaps have a glass of wine to set herself at ease before Seven's arrival.

When she entered her space, she found Seven at the replicator, decked out in a shimmering silver blouse and black slacks that clung tastefully around the hips and then flowed elegantly around the ankles. She halted in the doorway, bracing herself with one hand.

"I wasn't expecting you so early."

"My apologies." Seven turned, a soft flush overtaking her cheeks. "I was unaware that I should arrive later."

"You're fine." Janeway stepped inside. "Just give me a few minutes to freshen up."

"That would be ideal, as I still have yet to program our meal."

"Thanks."

Ducking into the small area that housed her bed, Janeway sucked in several deep breaths. While Seven was appealing in a body suit, her attractiveness only intensified in formal wear. The blonde was certainly full of surprises, but Janeway was glad to know what the dress code for the evening was. She stripped her clothing off, entered the bathroom unit, and activated the shower. Once she was clean, she used the replicator next to the sink to generate something akin to Seven's clothing and applied a simple layer of make up.

By the time she returned to the dining table, Seven had served up several dishes that Janeway didn't recognize. The smell, however, was heavenly, so she decided to trust Seven's tastes in this matter. She sat down and gestured for Seven to follow suit.

"I have to admit, this is unexpected."

"I have been told that relationships benefit from the addition of romance."

"Yes, that's true."

"I am unfamiliar with the practice, but I saw no reason not to implement my research and observe the results." Seven reached out to serve her carefully prepared feast. "While most nutrition was deemed irrelevant by the Borg, certain culinary information was retained. These are dishes famous around the Delta Quadrant, prepared as close to their original recipe as I could manage."

"This all looks wonderful, Seven."

"May I call you Kathryn?"

"You may."

Seven dipped her head. "Thank you. Would you care to tell me about your day, Kathryn?"

Janeway's throat tightened at the familiar question. It was so mundane, and the ordinariness of it all weighed heavily on her shoulders. This wasn't the sort of conversation to which she was accustomed to these days, and she was honestly surprised that Seven cared. Their discussions were usually much more in-depth than this, but she supposed they ought to be able to manage small talk as well.

"I helped B'Elanna in the engine room for most of the morning while you were gone. We ought to have our thrusters again within the next week or so. I spent a bit of time by myself in the mess hall, thinking about things, and then you returned. It's been a bit odd being on this planet."

"In what way?"

"There's almost too much time to think. We've had our emergencies, but over all, there's no imminent encounter with a hostile alien species and no death-defying acts to perform. I haven't spent this much time with my thoughts in a very long while."

"Do you dislike what you've discovered?"

"Not at all, actually. Perhaps a few years ago, I might have, but the Delta Quadrant has taught me quite a bit about taking myself as I am."

"I think I understand what you mean. I have considered myself more often here than in space, although I am perhaps more dissatisfied with my results than you. As I become more human, I miss being Borg."

"That's only natural. You spent most of your life with the Hive. For what it's worth, I like the human you've become."

Seven's posture relaxed. "Then I will have to trust your judgment."

"What else do you think about?" Janeway took a delicate bite out of something brown and triangular. She'd expected something that tasted of meat, but instead, the food tasted crisp, like slices of fresh apple with spices dusted on top. Savoring the flavor, she took another bite before reaching for her glass of water.

"Earth. When we return, I am uncertain what my role will be and what function I will serve."

Janeway watched myriad emotions flicker across Seven's face, from the slightest hint of a furrowed brow to the dip of Seven's lips. Many onboard still thought Seven to be cold and calculating, but Janeway knew there was true depth of emotion that Seven simply wasn't comfortable expressing yet. "What would you like to do?"

"I have not yet devoted much time to the query." Seven dabbed her lips with a napkin before adding, "But I would like my future to include you."


	7. Progress: Slow but Steady

7: Progress: Slow but Steady

The knowledge that even in uncertain times and unknown futures, Seven wanted to be with her warmed Janeway's heart. Seven was so straightforward that there wasn't often poetry in her words, so Janeway treasured what little she could glean about the depths of Seven's soul whenever possible. She wondered if Seven valued her statements as highly, although she had little doubt that Seven listened very carefully to everything she said.

"There are a number of options for when you return. It all depends on what you think will make you happiest."

"Will you remain with Starfleet?"

"I will," Janeway confirmed. The life of a starship captain was too important to her. Yet, if Seven truly wished to remain on Earth to explore her heritage, Janeway would be hard pressed not to ask for some personal time to accompany Seven as long as needed. That Seven had so quickly superceded her need for constant adventure and challenge drew a smile to her lips. Her mother would have been so happy. "I'm afraid that traveling the stars is just in my blood."

"Then perhaps I will enter Starfleet."

"You wouldn't have to do that unless you wanted to. It's a harsh way of life-"

"No harsher than the Borg, I am certain." Seven nibbled at her own food and decided her efforts were highly satisfactory. While she did not see the point in extravagant flavors, she could recognize a dish that had been prepared to expectations. Focusing on her meal gave her a chance to divert her thoughts, at least for a moment. She wasn't yet accustomed to how heady Janeway made her and how clouded her thoughts could become in Janeway's presence. "While you allowed me onboard as drone, I do not believe Starfleet will allow me onboard your future assignments simply because I demand it."

"No, I suppose not. But depending on the sort of ship I'm assigned to, there may be a corps of scientists. You could take that route as well." And, Janeway thought, there was also the option that the spouses of captains were given special permission to travel on assignments as well. That was neither here nor there with her current relationship with Seven, however, so she bit her tongue. She recognized her eagerness as part of the excitement of a new relationship, but she knew better than to rush forward haphazardly. If she had a future with Seven, then she would take developments as they came.

"We have many years to consider our options. The only aspect I know for certain is that you will get us to the Alpha Quadrant."

"Sometimes I'm not so sure," Janeway admitted. She wasn't keen on displaying her weaknesses, but she felt comfortable being vulnerable in front of Seven. "We have a long journey ahead of us, and it feels like no matter how far we travel, there's too far left to go. These people are counting on me to get them home. That burden is often crushing."

"I would gladly help in anyway I can."

"Just being around you seems to bolster my spirits." Janeway finished her meal and leaned back in her chair, her fingers splayed over her stomach. "And if you keep making meals like this, I'll be able to keep my energy up."

"I have done some research regarding Terran ideals and traditional sex roles," Seven offered. "If you would like, I could function as your housewife, so that you may attend to more important activities."

Glad she'd already swallowed her final bite and had nothing to choke on, Janeway sputtered. "What you've read-it's likely outdated. We don't have to fulfill any particular roles-"

"I have also observed Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres. Lt. Torres strives to make Lt. Paris's life easier and in doing so, increase his happiness. This increases the performance of them both."

"They're different."

"In what regard?" Usually prepared to update incorrect information, Seven was suddenly hesitant. She was already ignorant of dating rituals and appropriate behaviors, and what little she knew, she clung to. To have a working understanding of her circumstances would have been comforting-not to mention she was apprehensive that Janeway would see her nescience as naivete, which was likely unattractive in a romantic partner.

"They're a bit old fashioned."

"Old fashioned."

"Yes. Tom's always been a twentieth-century buff, you know. I suspect those programs he watches fill his head with ideals like the ones you came across. I shouldn't gossip about my crew like this-"

"I will not tell."

"I know. Part of being captain is understanding your crew, or at least trying to. This isn't to form a judgment, mind you, but simply to predict patterns of behavior and hopefully maximize efficiency." Janeway hedged a moment before jumping to her point: "B'Elanna has faced a lot of rejection over the course of her life. She loves Tom and doesn't want to lose him, so I suspect she acts accordingly. If this means a bit of mollycoddling and traditional behavior, then she'd likely push herself to conform, at least temporarily."

"Your conclusions seem valid."

"They function together as a unit, but their unit is vastly different than ours."

"Do you believe I am that different from Lt. Torres?"

Janeway regarded her seriously. "Do you believe you are the same?"

Two options were available to her, Seven recognized. She could avoid answering and divert the conversation to something less emotionally intense, or she could do her best to tackle and communicate the confusion she faced on a near daily basis. As Janeway wouldn't shy away from a challenge, Seven settled her palms on the table and squared her shoulders. She, too, would be brave, no matter the cost.

"In some regards, Lt. Torres and I are indeed similar. We both behave in a manner unlike our peers. She is volatile and aggressive, while I am seen as cold and calculating. I have investigated the logs of the crew. I am well aware of their perceptions of me, as I am aware that you would like to reprimand me for reading private logs. While Lt. Torres pretends as though her ostracization is painful yet tolerable, I..."

"You?"

Seven pressed her hands more firmly against the table, disliking her inexplicable penchant for fidgeting. "I pretend as though I do not care."

"But you do."

"The Doctor assures me that this is perfectly normal." Seven's voice dipped lower as she added, "Perfectly human."

"Well, yes." Janeway settled her napkin next to her plate and stood. "Are you done? With your food, I mean."

When Seven nodded, Janeway collected their empty dishes and cutlery and fed them into the recycler. Seven followed her to the couch, sitting without complaint where Janeway patted the cushion. Enjoying the easy comfort of this small, inconsequential silent exchange, Janeway grinned wryly.

"So," she said as means of returning to their previous line of conversation, "you were saying?"

Seven's posture stiffened. "I have analyzed my actions and my hormonal and cognitive responses. I believe I am negatively affected by the dismissal of my peer group. Based on this data, I have concluded that if you were to reject me, the emotional impact would have additional weight, as your opinion matters more than others'."

"Are you saying you'd do whatever you thought I wanted to please me?"

"Within reason," Seven allowed. "However, I no longer wish for the ambitions of another to overwhelm my own. I will do what I deem necessary to be what you need, but I will still value my individuality."

"Seven, I am attracted to you-not who you think you have to be."

"How can you be certain?"

"That's the thing about love. That uncertain vulnerability is what makes it both so frightening and so rewarding. The risk of hurt is so large, but what you reap ought to make every moment worthwhile."

Recalling Janeway's fondness for poetry, Seven searched her mental database for a relevant verse. She took Janeway's hand onto her lap. "'Tis better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all."

"Tennyson."

"Correct."

"That said, I'm ready to take that chance. I'm ready to let you see me in all that I am, and hopefully, you'll like what you see."

"I do."

"I trust that you mean that. Do you trust me?"

Instead of answering, Seven leaned across the couch and pressed their lips together. Janeway kept her hands fisted along her thighs to keep from tugging Seven against her and pushing this relationship faster than either of them was prepared for. She lost the battle with her restraint when Seven sidled closer and straddled her lap; against her better judgment, she grasped Seven's hips almost instinctually, although she wasn't sure if she were steadying Seven or holding Seven captive.

Seven's lips reminded her of her mattress back on Earth: they were soft and firm yet still pliant. For a woman with very little romantic experience, Seven was certainly more than satisfactory at kissing, and Janeway knew in that moment that any hopes of protecting her heart from damage were dashed, like a poorly made shuttlecraft battered to smithereens in an asteroid belt. She had no shields left, and she was succumbing to her feelings in a way that she had never experienced before.

"Your breathing," Seven said as they parted with a moist pop. "Are you unwell?"

Deciding to keep her thoughts private for the moment, Janeway nodded and shifted one hand to Seven's cheek. "I'm actually rather great."

"As am I."

"Good to hear." Janeway chuckled. "So, does this mean you trust me?"

"There is no being in existence other than myself that I trust more."

"I suppose that's fair."

"I should go."

As Seven eased gracefully to the ground, Janeway called for the computer to announce the time. Hearing that it was nearly a quarter past twenty-two-hundred, she sighed her agreement. She walked Seven to the door, still hesitant to end their time together.

"Lt. Torres and I will be working on the thrusters tomorrow morning, if you'd like to join us? We could use your input."

"If you deem my presence necessary, I will make the appropriate accommodations. However, I believe my skill set will be utilized most efficiently in handling the direct contact with the robot."

"I think Naomi named him Scratchy." Janeway realized the truth of Seven's statement and nodded. "I'll need to interface a bit with him myself, with you as a mediary of course. For the morning, just see to it that he's comfortable. I'll come see you both around lunch time, and we can use the afternoon to see if we can make a deal."

Seven waited a moment longer. "Would it be appropriate to give you a kiss good night?"

"Permission granted."

With precision, Seven slid a hand behind her neck and pulled her forward. She knew how strong Seven truly was, so feeling a bit of that power fully under control was arousing. The kiss was slow but sweet, and Janeway was short of breath when they parted. Janeway was keenly aware of how flushed her cheeks must have been. Seven's gazed drifted along her face.

"Interesting."

She reached up and held her fingers to her lips. "What is?"

"Your reactions." The corner of Seven's mouth lifted, and she slowly removed her hands from Janeway's body. "I will process this information this evening. Good night, Kathryn."

"Good night, Seven."

Janeway leaned against her door after it slid shut and attempted to calm her racing heart. Clutching her chest, she stared up at the ceiling, sucked in a deep breath, and reminded herself that she hadn't been kissed at all for a very long time-there was nothing to suggest that Seven was exemplary. Except that Seven was always the best at everything she did. Janeway couldn't help but smirk; even in areas hitherto unexplored, Seven proved her merit and with such ease. That was just one of her many attractive qualities. Janeway had to admit she was in deep.

* * *

Neelix lingered in the corridor outside Janeway's quarters, waiting for the captain to leave for her early morning shift. His plan had been perfected, as far as he was concerned. Every member of Voyager's crew had been partnered up with someone they either had a contentious relationship with or someone they'd never worked with before. All he needed was the captain's permission so he could talk to Tuvok about scheduling everyone to work with their selected partner for one week. Then, on the final day, he'd host a party in the mess hall where everyone could celebrate newfound friendships.

Janeway's door slid open, and the woman herself stepped into the corridor. She paused when she spotted Neelix and nodded her head. "Good morning, Mr. Neelix."

He started, lifting his hands and shifting forward. "Ah, Captain Janeway. Just who I was hoping to run into."

"You had good odds," she replied, with a small smile that suggested she was prepared to humor him. "Seeing as you were waiting just outside my quarters."

"We had a saying back on Talax that a marlach hunting in the woods catches nothing."

Assuming this to be relevant, Janeway didn't press for details. Doing so would likely take up more time than she had to spare. Instead, she asked, "What's on your mind?"

"With the way things have been going lately-what with being stranded on this planet and that poor ensign-I thought it might be time for a little crew bonding."

"I admire your forethought, but I'm afraid we have a lot to accomplish right now."

She tried to step by him, but he merely cut her off and smiled broadly. "Well, you see, Captain, my idea is to pair workers up-to, to build camaraderie!"

"Will this interfere with productivity?"

"Oh, no. Of course not! In fact, you'll see an increase in productivity! And morale, of course, which is my primary concern, as I am the Chief Morale Officer."

"How could I forget?"

He continued on as if she hadn't interjected. "All I need is your permission, and then I'll see Mr. Tuvok about changing duty rosters. Everyone will still be working-they'll just be working with a buddy."

She was silent for a long moment. While his idea was probably akin to his meals-half-baked-she thought there was some merit in a buddy system. In order to avoid further casualties, she saw no problem with assigning two crew members to each other purely for safety reasons.

"Permission granted. Speak to Tuvok. However, if any problems occur, this is over. Understood?"

"Perfectly!" He clasped his hands over his belly and beamed at her. "You'll be glad to know I've assigned you to Seven."

She had taken a single step away from him when his statement brought her up short again. "Why would I be glad?"

"Why, we've all seen you two becoming closer. I thought you'd be pleased to spend more time with her."

Rather than respond directly, she straightened and looked down her nose at him. "Why am I even on your list at all? As captain-"

"You can't expect your crew to do what you will not."

She should have realized that this, like most of Neelix's plans, was going to be larger and harder to control than she initially thought. With a sigh, she waved her hand. "This will have to begin tomorrow. I've already given Seven her orders for the day, and I'm off to attend to mine."

"Tomorrow, of course." He dipped his head. "And at the end of the week-"

"Let me guess," she interrupted. "A party?"

"Great minds think alike."

"Fine. But again, if there are any problems…"

"Yes, yes."

He hurried in the opposite direction, knowing that he had finally toed the line of Janeway's patience. He wondered why she was so touchy about Seven's assignment. Perhaps he ought to have assigned Seven to someone else. He considered his list and decided to swap Seven with Naomi, who was previously going to spend the week with Chakotay. Chakotay was a bit more directive than Janeway, who had more patience for Naomi's curiosity and thirst for knowledge. Janeway would do fine helping the little girl learn, while Seven would learn to interact with different people. With Chakotay, she would be subjected to more and varied situations, thereby broadening her horizons. This was a perfect solution and one that wouldn't bother the captain as much as the thought of working so closely with Seven.

* * *

Tom stared at his breakfast, knowing he ought to eat but not feeling up to the task. His stomach was in knots because Harry was still unconscious in the sickbay, even though everyone kept assuring him that Harry would be fine-would, indeed, be waking up any moment now. He pushed his fork into what looked like soggy eggs and sighed.

"If you don't like it, you're free to try and program something yourself," B'Elanna said. Although her words were sharp in nature, she kept her tone gentle. Tom needed gentle coaxing, not a cattle prod.

"No, it's great. Thanks."

She grimaced. "It's so great that you can't possibly mess up the beautiful arrangement by eating it?"

He lifted his head and smiled sheepishly. "You took the words right out of my mouth."

"You aren't doing him any good by moping like this."

"I know," he replied, setting his cheek against his palm. "I just-I know I'm not to blame for any of this, but I should have gone to find him earlier. I went to search for you, but I never once thought about looking for him. You… You're capable of holding your own. He's just a kid."

"He's a real Starfleet officer, unlike you and me," she reminded him. She reached for his plate, but he brushed her away. "All I mean is that he's got all the right training. You can't worry about him all the time. And, for what it's worth, I'm glad to know I ranked higher in your priorities."

"You always do." He finally took a bite and was glad that everything tasted like paste at the moment. He was sure if he could taste his meal, he wouldn't like what he'd just tossed against his tongue. "I have time to go see him before our shifts start…"

She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. "Go see him. Just remember to meet me for lunch."

"Of course." He got up, kissed her cheek, and hurried out the door.

She watched him go and then stood. Clearing his still-full plate and her own half-eaten one, she went through the morning chores with rote muscle memory rather than full attention. She, too, was worried about Harry. As much as she claimed he was capable, she also knew he was young and impetuous. Like her, he wanted badly to prove himself, and she was worried he'd try so hard it killed him. Although she wanted to go check on him herself, she trusted Tom to keep her updated. Until then, she had to meet Janeway in engineering to keep working on the thrusters, not to mention the several parts of the warp core that had started to misbehave at the end of the day.

She exited her quarters, took the nearest Jefferies tube, and popped out in the corridor outside engineering. Entering, she examined the meager crew awaiting orders and began divvying up tasks according to how important they were. By the time Janeway arrived, everyone was working diligently at something, and B'Elanna was hunched over her console.

"Any progress?"

B'Elanna shook her head without moving from her spot of intense concentration. "None, but having extra hands today will help."

"We're starting to get Voyager ship shape again," Janeway said, with no small amount of pride coloring her voice.

"The sooner the better. I think we'll all feel better once we're back in space."

"I have to talk to that robot later about a possible trading arrangement. While I have no idea yet what we can give them, that material inside the caves might be our key to success."

B'Elanna cocked a curious eyebrow. "How so?"

"Seven believes the mineral, mithryte, is impervious to the solar activity. If we can get our hands on some, then there's a chance we can build plates to block the interference, which will cut down on the degradation of our systems."

"Why don't we just go take some?"

"The robots have been programmed to make sure that doesn't happen. I'd rather try diplomacy first."

"The Starfleet way."

Catching a bit of B'Elanna's sarcasm, Janeway shrugged. "We may be decades away from home, but I still want to do things by the book. Less for Starfleet to interrogate me about later."

"I have a feeling we'll all be interrogated no matter what."

"We can worry about that when we're back on our way."

"Aye, aye." B'Elanna saluted and bent back over her console. "The most recent diagnostic shows that we're close, but the port engine isn't responding to commands."

"Then let's get started."

* * *

Seven stepped into the sickbay and stood patiently while the Doctor attended to Harry's prone form. He was healing well, from what she could see, but she also understood the need to keep him comatose. Were he awake, then he might suffer, and there was little point in putting him through the agony of his condition. The Doctor could do what he needed to, without the distraction of screams or cries.

When he spotted, the Doctor's face brightened. His matrix was advanced, Seven considered, as she didn't know many holograms who could project that subtle a feeling with such accuracy. Even she, who experienced feelings, could not achieve the same level of mastery. She wondered which one of them was more human.

"Good morning, Seven!"

"I require your assistance."

"Of course." He tilted his head. "Please state the nature of your emergency."

"I simply wish to have my implants evaluated. After being out in the solar activity earlier, I deemed your expertise necessary."

This was true; she was minutely worried about how her implants were handling the interference. Truly, however, she wanted some feedback from the only source she trusted with her confidential matters. He retrieved a tricorder and had her sit on a biobed. While he did his assessment, she determined the exact words she would use to explain her delicate situation.

"Well, it appears that your implants are, as you might say, functioning adequately." He tapped the tricorder against his chin. "Might there be another purpose to your visit?"

She didn't blush easily, a fact for which she was grateful. She nodded stiffly and, after a glance at Harry, gestured to his office. "If we might have some privacy?"

"He can't hear us."

She wasn't as certain as he was and waited patiently for him to do as she directed. Once they were both in his glass-enclosed office, she said, "I require your advice on a social matter."

"I do have another set of lessons prepared-"

"I do not believe you'll have something prepared for this."

He cocked his head. "What's the matter?"

"I have embarked on a romantic liaison."

"With whom?" His words tumbled out quickly and with a hint of tension. If he weren't a computer program, she would have sworn he was genuinely jealous, or at the very least surprised.

"The captain."

He took a pregnant pause, gazing at her and analyzing the situation. "And… you want my help with what, exactly?"

"I have successfully courted Captain Janeway per your previous instructions, with a few additions from my own research. What I do not yet understand is what is referred to as 'taking it to the next level.'"

He cleared his throat. "Uh, Seven, I-I'm not sure-"

"Do you have the necessary information to aid me?" she demanded, her voice sharp. She didn't intend to intimidate him, but this subject was sensitive and difficult to discuss. If he made things challenging, she would take her worries elsewhere.

"Maybe?" he offered weakly. "Can you be more specific?"

"I have kissed Captain Janeway, and I have identified my body's physiological reaction as arousal. I wish to explore this aspect of my humanity in greater detail, but I am uncertain as to what the proper next step is. I have researched films and pornographic materials, but I doubt Captain Janeway will respond well to the arrival of a pizza man."

"No, I suppose not." He smiled, gaining his bearings now that he knew what she was seeking. "I have had my share of sexual encounters, so I'd be glad to give you whatever advice I can."

Relieved, she released her rigid posture and let her hands fall to her sides. "Thank you."

"In my experience, I've always started with a romantic date. For example, using the Holodeck to stargaze."

"We are already in space. She may simply look out her windows."

He shook his head. "It's not about the viewing, Seven. It's about the atmosphere." He spread his hands and looked off into the distance. "Picture it: you and your date, cuddled up in the backseat of an open-roof car. It's cool enough that you can be that close without overheating but warm enough that freezing isn't a concern. Maybe you have some smooth jazz on the radio."

"Those details are irrelevant-"

"Those details are the romance," he argued. "Women love romance."

She couldn't stop her ocular implant from shifting up. "Do they?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, most women."

"Captain Janeway doesn't have time for that sort of frivolous pursuit. Besides, I have already served her a meal and tended to her needs. I do not need your input on romance."

"Sexuality grows from romance. Many people can't have one without the other."

She wondered if that was why her attempts at self-stimulation had ended poorly. Then again, her research suggested that a large number of people experienced sexuality and romance as entirely different, disconnected entities. Thus, there was a strong possibility that the Doctor was speaking purely to feel like an authority. "Very well. I will romance her. Then what?"

"Why, then it just proceeds naturally."

"It did not last night."

"All parties have to be on the same page," he hurried to clarify. He crossed the room and set a hand on her shoulder. "If it's meant to be, it'll happen."

"That is unsatisfactory."

"Well, that's apparently life." He shrugged and guided her to the door. "Or so I'm told. Now, if that's all?"

"It is." She strode out, brushing by Tom Paris who barely noticed her presence.

He nodded his greeting at the Doctor and sat by Harry's side. His friend didn't react, even when he grabbed the man's hand. He gratified to find Harry's hand warm and firm, which he assumed was a good sign.

"How's he doing?"

"Well," the Doctor replied. "He should be well enough to wake up by lunch time."

"Any permanent damage?"

"We'll know more once he wakes up."

Tom frowned and squeezed Harry's hand. "Contact me when he wakes up."

"You did a fine job getting him home, Mr. Paris."

"Not soon enough," Tom muttered, standing. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, stood, and nodded. "I'll be back."

* * *

Naomi skipped down the hall, glad to be home once more. She did miss the cavern full of robots, but at least here she could communicate with everyone she came across-and she still had access to Scratchy, although her mom said she couldn't talk to him without Seven present. She understood since Seven made talking super easy, but she disliked her mom trying to tell her what to do. She was a kid, yeah, but she'd proven that she could take care of herself, hadn't she?

She skidded to a halt outside the cargo bay holding Scratchy and tucked her hands behind her back. Seven would be along sooner or later, and then she could tell Seven everything she'd learned during her time in the tunnels. She'd show Seven how valuable and important she could be, and maybe Seven would praise her. She was old enough now to recognize that Captain's Assistant was a made up position to fluff up her ego; still, she prized the position and planned to actually do some good with it.

Nobody else was free to go about the ship like she was. Most people ignored her, so she heard things that she wasn't supposed to, and she saw stuff that she shouldn't have. While she wasn't looking to go down the security track of Starfleet officer training, there was no harm in rounding out her talents.

At the sound of heels clicking down the corridor, she snapped to attention. "Good morning, Seven."

"Naomi Wildman. You are up early."

"I want to help you with Scratchy."

"Do you have your mother's permission."

"Yes," Naomi lied, a nervous smile creeping onto her lips.

"Does she know where you are, at least?"

Naomi relaxed, sure that this was Seven relenting. "I told her I'd stay on the ship?"

"Very well. However, if I order you to leave, you may not question me. You will leave immediately. Am I clear?"

"Yes." Naomi snapped a smart salute. "Thanks!"

Seven appraised her young shadow for a moment before entering the cargo bay. The more she was around Naomi, the more she was learning to appreciate Naomi's kindness, curiosity, and work ethic. If she ever were a mother, she would want a child like this one, she decided. Naomi sought to embody Borg-approved characteristics as much as possible, which Seven couldn't fault, and Seven thought the child very well behaved based on the vids she'd seen of other humanoid children.

Not bothering to speak to Naomi again, Seven approached Scratchy and extended her assimilation tubules. As soon as she linked in, Scratchy whirred to life and sent a greeting. Decoding quickly, she translated for Naomi, who urged her to say hello back.

"Is there anything else you wish to tell it?"

"Can you ask him how he is?"

She wasn't sure his program would be able to respond to the inquiry, but she wasn't about to let Naomi down. She coded both the response and the question and waited. There were a serious whirrs and beeps, and then another message arrived.

"Anxious."

"Why?"

"It is not used to these surroundings."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"It likes hearing you talk. The pitch of your voice is pleasing."

"Should I tell a story?"

Seven sighed and took a seat. Naomi rushed to plop down beside her. "You will speak slowly."

"Okay."

While Naomi rambled to the robot, Seven let her thoughts drift. She only needed to pay a tiny strain of attention to Naomi, just enough so that a portion of her brain could translate the text into binary for Scratchy, but the rest of her mind considered the problems currently troubling her world. As a lone being, she encountered many more issues than as a drone, but she supposed that caring was something that came with the territory of humanity. Then again, she'd read numerous accounts of human beings who totally lacked sympathy, empathy, and compassion. She wondered if her life would be easier if she were one of those people.

A subtle glance at Naomi made her reconsider; Seven didn't understand but still acknowledged the innate fondness she felt for Naomi. If she were a blank emotional slate, she would miss out on much of the good as well as the bad. Similar to what she'd told Janeway the evening prior, she'd rather feel everything than nothing at all.

The morning passed quickly, or so it seemed to Seven. Naomi was still rattling off details to her story, which lacked cohesion and characterization, when the door to the cargo bay slid open. Janeway entered, tilting her head in greeting, and Naomi jumped to her feet.

"Captain Janeway! Seven and I have been making sure Scratchy's comfortable all morning!"

Janeway smiled at the little girl. "You've done an excellent job, I'd wager."

"You can ask Seven."

"She did an excellent job," Seven submitted. "She entertained the robot for the duration of our time together, and it has no complaints about its time or treatment here either."

"I never doubted you."

Naomi dipped her head. "I should probably find my mom. She doesn't like me being gone for too long…"

"Understandable. Run along, then. I'm sure there'll be more for you to do later." Janeway waited until Naomi disappeared before turning her attention to Seven. "That was very kind of you to let her assist you."

"Naomi is a bright child, albeit less intellectually advanced than the children of the Borg. I find her presence a suitable addition to my duties."

"You should tell Neelix that. He's organizing some sort of buddy system-maybe he'd assign her to you, if you asked."

"I would prefer to work with you."

"Then you're in luck, as that's the plan he told me this morning." Recalling the purpose of her visit, Janeway examined their metallic guest. "How do I communicate?"

"Tell me what you wish to convey, and I will act as translator."

"Very well. Ask it how long it's been on this planet."

"The translation is difficult, as they do not use our system of time measurement. There are no days, so there are no months and no years. However, supposing that their unit is moments transpiring, of which it says there have been 518,701,021, I would presume that nearly sixteen and a half years have elapsed since their arrival on this planet."

"How long since they've received orders from the Wonitians?"

"The same."

Janeway folded her arms over her chest and evaluated the robot. It likely wasn't lying, but that would suggest that communication was impossible. Nobody sent an expedition without expecting some modicum of control. That all meant that the Wonitians sent the robots, which almost immediately fell out of contact. The Wonitians hadn't mounted a rescue, leading her to believe that the alien species knew the risks of this planet and stayed well away. She grimaced, being reminded once more that she'd put her crew at risk despite clear warning signs to stay away.

"Ask it if it's aware that the mineral can block the suns' interference."

Seven hesitated. "It doesn't understand."

"Tell it what you know."

There were several moments of silence, and Janeway presumed there was some form of communication that she wasn't privy to. Seven glanced back and nodded. At Janeway's order to ask again, she turned back to Scratchy.

"It was unaware of both the interference and the properties of the minerals."

"Would it be willing to trade some minerals for something of equal or better value?"

"It doesn't know the value of the minerals."

"We're more than willing to negotiate."

"Captain," Seven stated, a little more sharply than she intended. "These robots do not process information with the same capacity of you or I. We are capable of learning and changing-adjusting, if you will to situations and circumstances as they unfold. These robots do not have adequate artificial intelligence to barter. They have their programming, and that is all."

That could prove to be thorny, Janeway realized. Usually, she could coax a good deal out of the people they came across because there was usually something the other party wanted. In this case, however, the robots likely wanted little else than to work in peace until they broke down completely. She wondered if she could change that, and if she could, if doing so would be ethical.

"Thank it for its time, please."

Seven did so and then removed her tendrils. "Is there anything else I can do to assist you?"

"Join me for lunch? I have some options I'd like to discuss with you."

"Very well. Scratchy will be fine here alone. It will likely recharge and cause no problems."

"I trust you," Janeway said, gesturing to the door. "The mess hall awaits."

Feeling confident but not brave, Seven couldn't bring herself to take Janeway's hand as they walked. Her research indicated that doing so would mark their relationship for the public, but she wasn't certain Janeway would look favorably on the gesture. After all, the captain might want to keep things quiet for the time being. She locked her hands behind her back to keep from even brushing the captain accidentally.

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Quite well, thank you," Seven replied crisply, her head held high. "And yourself?"

"You seem a bit-off."

Seven waited while the door to the mess slid open. "I am merely hungry."

"I didn't quite remember to eat breakfast, myself," Janeway responded, a hand hovering over her stomach. She sniffed the air and winced. "I just hope that Neelix made something edible today. I respect his enthusiasm, don't get me wrong, but sometimes, my stomach wishes he'd been classically trained on Earth."

"Terran dishes, per his understanding, are boring. He attempts only to make them more flavorful."

"I thought flavor was irrelevant."

"It is. I was just trying to understand his position."

"I admire that. Tell me if it helps with the taste."

Accepting their plates from Neelix, they headed to a quieter corner away from the hubbub around them. Now that progress was being made on returning the ship to functionality, Janeway could see a marked difference in crew morale. She wondered if Neelix's plan was even necessary, but she recalled that he hadn't been in very high spirits himself after Bronowski's passing either. This was as much for him as anyone.

"You have options you would like to discuss?"

"You can relax, Seven. I know it's a bit weird to have to treat me different depending on who's around, but you've always been different from the rest of the crew."

"Yes, captain."

"In a good way."

Seven tilted her head and let the matter go. "The options?"

"At the rate we're fixing the engines, there's a very real chance we won't be able to leave this planet in the near future." Janeway poked her fork into the yellow lump on her plate. "We either need to find a way to deal with the robots, or we need to start a mining operation of our own."

"The latter appears more plausible."

"I did have an idea about the former."

Seven cocked her head. "As the robots currently are, there is nothing we could give them that would sway their programming."

"Almost nothing," Janeway corrected. "We may not have physical goods they'd like, but we could upgrade their programming, couldn't we? Implant a form of AI to give them a real chance at negotiations?"

"That is a possibility. We could also find a way to shut down the robots and take what we require."

"That doesn't strike me as very fair. They may not be alive by your standards, but they do deserve some respect, don't they?"

"I suppose."

"We have access to highly advanced computer programs on this ship. We could implant one into Scratchy to give it the ability to process more quickly and to integrate new information."

"Would we allow it to remain intelligent after we have negotiated?"

Janeway settled back and shrugged. "That's why I'm talking to you. It was a passing thought, but one that could very well solve our problems. Unfortunately, there's a hornet's nest of problems that might arise. Is it ethical to give one robot intelligence and then leave it behind? Are we breaking the Prime Directive if we provide this non-warp capable civilization advanced technology? Am I attempting to meddle in something far bigger than I ought?"

"Captain, I cannot answer the final question without being impolite."

Janeway snorted. "I know. But I have to think about these things before I make a decision. I'd appreciate your input on any of it."

"I believe we have another option."

"I'm listening."

"While it may not understand the value of the material, we may be able to convince him of its uses. I have processed data regarding our current situation, and I believe that the robots that have caused us direct harm have been degrading due to the suns. As support, I submit that the only robots that have opened fire are those that have been outside the caves, while those within are functioning at peak capability."

"So, you're suggesting that we convince Scratchy that we know how to use the materials to protect the other robots? Why would they care?"

"They want to continue fulfilling their directive. If we can provide them a way to do so for longer, they may be willing to allow us to take some of the mithryte."

"I hadn't considered that."

Across the room, Tom slouched over his plate. B'Elanna watched him closely, hoping he'd start shoveling food into his mouth with his usual ferocity. When he didn't, she leaned closer. "He's going to wake up, and you starving yourself doesn't help."

"You don't know that," he retorted, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

Glad that his humor hadn't completely escaped him, she shook her head. "If you don't eat, how will you have enough energy to keep up with me tonight?"

He sat up. "Are you saying what I think you're saying."

"Eat your lunch, and you'll find out later."

Although he wasn't hungry, he appreciated her efforts at helping him. He took a bite and frowned. "I don't know what Neelix is up to in the kitchen, but I wish his products better reflected his efforts."

"Better eat it quick, then, before it comes back to life and crawls away."

He rolled his eyes. "Anything to get me to eat it, huh?"

"I'm not above blackmail."

As he took his next bite, he spotted Janeway jumping to her feet and hurrying out of the room. Seven gathered their plates and returned them to the kitchen, glancing in his direction. Before he could wonder about the occurrence for too long, his comm badge bleeped.

"Lt. Paris, this is the Doctor."

"Is Harry okay?"

"He's awake."

Tom sprung to his feet, mirroring Janeway in his haste to get to the sickbay. B'Elanna stood to follow but was waylaid by Seven, who stood before with a curious look on her face. The time between their interactions had been too long, B'Elanna figured. She was due for a run-in with the resident Borg, and she might as well get this over with. Besides, if she played nicely, she might pick up a scrap of gossip about the captain.

"Hey there, Seven."

"Lt. Torres."

"Would you like to sit down."

Seven sat awkwardly. "Thank you."

"Something I can help you with?"

"I am aware that you would like to join the others in the sickbay, but I request several minutes of your time."

"Well?"

"I have been observing your relationship with Lt. Paris-"

"Not again," B'Elanna cried, her hands balling into fists.

"I have not been recording data," Seven hurried to add. "I was simply using you as a model for my own relationship."

Offended though she was, B'Elanna was too curious to storm away. "In what way?"

"You and Lt. Paris appear to be an ideal match. I cannot confirm all aspects," color rose in Seven's cheeks, suggesting something less than pure, "but I believe you to be highly experienced in a domain that I am not."

"And what domain is that?"

"Intimacy."

B'Elanna picked up a fork to fiddle with to keep herself from laughing out loud. Her instincts had been correct, and she was likely to pick up something really good from this conversation. "What seems to be the problem in your relationship?"

"I do not know. The Doctor recommends romance, but I have tried that with limited success."

"What exactly are you trying to accomplish."

"I would like to experience physical intimacy," Seven clarified. "I have yet to, but my research suggests it to be a logical next step."

"Oh, I see."

"It is my belief that you work very hard to keep Lt. Paris happy. You tend to his needs?"

Fighting her rising anger, B'Elanna shrugged. "That's part of a relationship. He tends to mine, too."

"But you more so than him. According to my observations, you spend more time pleasing him than the other way around. Is initiating physical encounters another of your duties?"

"It's not a duty, Seven. Geeze."

"No?"

"Look, it happens sometimes. Sometimes it doesn't."

"That is similar to what the Doctor said."

"That's because it's true, okay? If you're so intent on making it happen, why don't you just talk to Janeway?"

Seven stiffened and frowned. "I do not know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on, Seven. It's painfully obvious."

"Did Lt. Paris inform you?"

B'Elanna shook her head, lying to save Tom pain later. "Like I said, it's obvious."

"I will work harder to hide my infatuation."

"Don't worry about it, Seven. I doubt anyone on the crew cares."

"They will resent me for my relationship with the captain. They will assume I receive special treatment."

"Seven, you've received special treatment since the moment you set foot on Voyager. It's just part of who you are. You demand what you need, and the captain gives it to you. We're all used to that by now."

"I also hoped to ingratiate myself with the crew in the coming weeks."

"Tom and I were going to watch a movie later, if you'd like to join us," B'Elanna offered before she could stop herself. "I know we're not exactly the whole crew, but you could practice."

Seven nodded curtly. "I appreciate your offer. What time should I arrive?"

"Nineteen hundred should work."

"Very well. Until then."

* * *

Harry sat up woozily, clutching his head. He was incredibly hungry and felt as if he'd had way too much to drink the night before. This was impossible, however, because the last thing he remembered was running around a cavern full of robots. He had eaten some of that strange fruit, he considered. Perhaps he'd picked up some sort of virus-a stabbing pain shot through his abdomen, and he glanced down. He was in a biobed, which meant he'd made it back to Voyager somehow. The Doctor hovered at his elbow, running the medical tricorder along his body.

"Well, Mr. Kim, I'm glad you're awake. I'm not the only, either." The Doctor gestured to Tom and Janeway, who stood a respectable distance away. "Do you feel up for visitors?"

"Yeah," he said, barely recognizing the dry rasp of his voice. "Could I get some water?"

"Of course."

Tom was at his side the moment the Doctor announced Harry's desire for company. He grabbed Harry's hand and squeezed tightly. "You scared us, man."

"What happened?"

"You tried to take some of that stuff," Tom replied. "You put a piece in your pocket, and the robots got angry."

"To be fair, I don't think the robots have emotions," Janeway inserted, "but otherwise, Tom's account is accurate. You were shot, but the rescue team reached you in time. Due to our limited resources, you may experience some pain, but we hope to be up and running in no time."

"When will I be up and running?"

The Doctor returned with a glass, which he held to Harry's lips, despite Harry's argument that he could do this himself. "I'll have time later this evening, when the interference is less intense, to finish out the final portion of the required treatment. He'll be free to leave tomorrow afternoon."

"That's great news, buddy."

"Before we get too far into celebrations, I need you to tell me everything you remember."

The story Harry told was disjointed and short, and Janeway supposed he was still a bit scattered due to the accident. Leaving him to Tom, she strode out of the sickbay and toward the nearest Jefferies tube. Tuvok and Chakotay would be on the bridge, and she wanted their opinions on their options, as well as Seven's. Climbing to the bridge took longer than she would have liked, and she had worked up a sweat by the time she reached her destination. The injury to her leg wasn't painful, but she still caught herself favoring the leg from time to time, as if her mind was expecting something awful to flare up along her shin.  
Chakotay handed off command of the bridge to a lieutenant who looked a bit overwhelmed by the sudden responsibility. She remembered being that young, and she clapped his shoulder in what she hoped was an encouraging way as she headed for the conference room. Tuvok too a seat to her left, while Chakotay sat directly to her right. She explained their perceived options and waited for their feedback.

"Implanting AI is not a choice devoid of risk," Tuvok stated. "We have no idea what the effects of doing so will have on these robots. This is the sort of interference that the Prime Directive was put into place to stop, as we could potentially alter the future of this quadrant."

"Without the ability to negotiate, we may never get the materials we need," she argued.

"Unless we mine, like you suggested," Chakotay put in. "That may be the only option that doesn't disrupt the Directive."

"The only issue I foresee is that the robots may interpret this action as infringing on their territory. I don't want to start a war, especially not one I don't think we're equipped to win."

Janeway drummed her fingers on the table, wondering if there was anyone who agreed with her most desired course of action. She could take that course at any time, but she had to trust that her advisers wouldn't lead her astray.

"And what of helping them protect themselves from the suns?"

"That is less ethically murky. Doing so would not alter their programming but would instead help them to function more appropriately."

"We could take the technology back to the Wonitians and help them rescue their robots as well," Janeway mused. "That's if we get enough of the minerals to get Voyager space worthy again. There are too many ifs, and I don't like ifs."

"I propose sending out a small mining crew to attempt the removal of some mineral. If trouble arises, they will discontinue their actions and return to the ship."

"I don't like sending anyone out if I know there's a likely threat." Janeway tapped her chin thoughtfully. "If we could develop some sort of shielding to guard against the robot's specific weaponry, then I could get behind that plan."

"I'll have B'Elanna get right on."

"No, I need her to keep working on the thrusters. We might not be able to work faster than the ship's decay, but without her, we'd certainly fall too far behind. Assign Lt. Ayala. He has a history of creating shielding out of nothing."

Chakotay grinned, recalling years ago when Ayala had functioned as his first officer. Although that time wasn't chronologically all that long ago, he felt as though a lifetime had passed between. "Yes, Captain."

"I'll have Ensign Kim join him later on tomorrow. Then, if we have no other choice, we'll send a crew in three days' time." She inspected her officers and nodded firmly. "Until then, continue guarding the ship and doing whatever repairs seem possible. Chakotay, I also need you to create a rotating shore leave roster. We're stuck on this planet, so we might as well take advantage."

"Aren't we worried about the robots?"

"As long as we don't touch the mithryte, we should be safe."

Chakotay leaned forward. "But what about Bronowski-"

"Tuvok, didn't Neelix mention seeing something in the brush that made him stop? In the moment before Bronowski got shot?"

"He did, but I believe it was a root." Tuvok's words suggested that he was uncertain, but Janeway knew that this was a carefully designed rhetorical tactic that he deployed when he didn't want to seem like he was overstepping his bounds. She appreciated that he didn't simply call her out, but she shook her head.

"What if it wasn't a root? What if he actually spotted a bit of mined material, which he mistook for a root. If that's the case, then his reaching for the mithryte instigated the attack-although you are under strict orders not to let him know that. This is supposition only."

"If that were true," Tuvok allowed, "then the crew would be safe in small groups as long as they did not touch any mithryte."

"Make sure everyone who leaves the ship knows the rules." Janeway stood. "I'll be in my quarters if you need me. I have some padds to review."

Dismissing them and returning to deck three, Janeway allowed herself to get lost in her thoughts. The Alpha Quadrant felt oh-so far away, but she couldn't allow anyone to see how hopeless she felt. The shining light in her life at that moment was Seven, with whom she probably shouldn't even be consorting-but she was tired of denying herself even the smallest happiness. The crew might look unfavorably on her for this dalliance, but she wasn't going to worry about that.

She entered her quarters and found a single rose waiting on her desk. This, she thought, was exactly why she'd allow this thing with Seven to continue to blossom. Sometimes, she just needed to be reminded that someone cared about her. She inhaled the rose's heavy scent and closed her eyes, imagining that Seven were with her. The small gesture was touching, and she carried the flower with her to the bedroom. Flicking on the lights, she nearly dropped the rose.

Seven sat sprawled on her bed, wearing a rather skimpy negligee. Her heart immediately responded, bursting into a frenetic pattern that sent surges of arousal through her. Baffled by the offering, Janeway hedged in the doorway. She hadn't realized that Seven was so prepared for what often came next in a relationship.

"Seven?"

"We must talk."


	8. Failure

Seven had been waiting for twenty-one minutes and sixteen seconds by the time Janeway returned to her quarters. Over the course of that time, she'd nearly changed back into her biosuit and returned to the cargo bay at three different moments. B'Elanna's advice to speak directly to Janeway was the most plausible she'd received, and she intended to follow through. As a drone, she would have waited however long it took to complete a mission. However, as a human, she had more going on in her mind-from anxiety flaring to doubts swirling-and she lacked the centralized will of an all-powerful being to hold her in place.

Still, she was as patient as possible, although she did shift her position several times before Janeway entered the room. Some of the videos and pictures she discovered during her research suggested that some poses were more seductive than others, but she found them uncomfortable and strange to hold for too long. Thankfully, Janeway walked in before she lost either her nerve or her most recent body angle.

"Where did you get that outfit?"

"I repaired a replicator and recycled old materials from the cargo bay. But that is not what I wish to discuss."

"What did you want to talk about, then?" Janeway seemed to be stalled out in the doorway.

Seven patted the bedspread beside her, attempting to appear much more in control than she felt. If she could present a semblance of normalcy, then Janeway would trust her. "I would like to take our relationship to the next level."

"We've only just recently talked about being in a relationship-"

"I am aware."

"-and I don't want you to rush into anything."

Seven tilted her head and cocked her implant. "You presume that I am a child, incapable of adult desires?"

"No, of course not." Janeway fiddled with the rose and met her gaze evenly. "Just that this is your first serious relationship, and I'm worried that you've researched into what a relationship should be."

"I have," Seven confirmed. She wasn't surprised that Janeway would make this assumption, especially given their conversation regarding Lt. Torres. To guide Janeway away from assuming that she was mimicking B'Elanna's eager-to-please behavior, she said, "But this was not to inform the future of our relationship. Rather, I wished to discover the proper etiquette for achieving the intimate contact I desire. As I told you during our discussion of bucket lists, I want to engage in sexual congress with you."

Janeway sniffed the flower once more before placing it gently on a side table. She sat beside Seven, deciding that perhaps a conversation was warranted. "I'd also like to experience sex with you, but I'm just not sure this is the right time."

"There will never be an ideal moment," Seven argued. According to her observations, they rarely had any consecutive days of peace and quiet, which suggested that Voyager would always be facing one challenge or another. If Janeway wanted to wait until all was well, they'd likely return to the Alpha Quadrant before she even glimpsed the older woman sans clothing.

"I mean between us." Janeway reached forward and brushed a few stray strands of hair from Seven's face. "It's still early in the relationship. I have no expectations. I don't want you to think that I need you to have sex with me because that's what people do when they're together."

Although her frustration grew, Seven kept her tone flat. "Perhaps I was not clearly enunciating my position. I am propositioning you based on my own desires for you."

To prove her point, Seven slid a hand down Janeway's chest, coming to rest at the hem of Janeway's blouse. She tugged the shirt up; for a moment, Janeway didn't move. Then, slowly, she lifted her arms and allowed Seven to remove the garment completely, leaving her in her dark grey undershirt. Seven removed that as well before reaching behind Janeway's back and unsnapping Janeway's bra.

"If you want to do this," Janeway broke the silence, "then we should slow this down."

Seven dropped her hand away, curious. Her gaze flicked down as Janeway tugged her bra away and tossed it aside. While she had seen numerous humanoid female chests, Janeway's in particular made her mouth suddenly dry. She was uncertain if this was a typical response, but asking would merely make her seem unsure about the whole situation. Her heart rate had accelerated as well, and she felt weak as Janeway guided her back against the pillows.

When Janeway kissed her, she did her best to keep up. She slung her arms around Janeway's neck, held Janeway close, and slipped her tongue between Janeway's lips. Janeway trailed the back of her hand along Seven's cheek before sliding her fingers down Seven's neck. Through the negligee, she teased Seven's nipples until they pebbled against her palms. Still trying to maintain a steady pace, Janeway slipped the thin straps of the negligee down Seven's shoulders, baring Seven's upper body. When she dipped back down to kiss Seven again, their breasts brushed against each other, and Janeway felt a jolt of something hot zap between her legs. She moaned into Seven's mouth.

"You're beautiful."

"As are you," Seven responded; her voice had an unfamiliar, raspy quality that drove Janeway wild.

Deciding that moving along was safe, Janeway suckled a nipple against her tongue. Seven's human hand snaked through her hair and tightened. She took her time paying homage to the sensitive erogenous zone, hoping that Seven was enjoying the process. From the look on Seven's face, she was doing an excellent job, although she'd have to check in verbally later to confirm. Abandoning one nipple for the other, she grazed her teeth over the pert nub, and Seven arched up into her mouth.

Adjusting herself a bit clumsily so that one thigh was in between Seven's legs, Janeway pressed forward to better gauge Seven's arousal. A thin tendril of sticky moisture connected Seven's groin to her trouser leg, so Janeway slowly slid down to examine the area more closely. She pushed the bottom of the negligee up, revealing a patch of curls above a clearly slick patch of tantalizing skin.

"Are you okay?"

Seven curled her fists into the sheet. "I am."

Janeway brushed the soft pad of her thumb along Seven's slit, and Seven spasmed. Seeking Seven's clit, she dragged her fingertip a little more firmly, seeking out the small bundle of nerves that would undoubtedly make Seven feel very, very good. As her fingers rubbed small, concentric circles, she dipped her tongue below her hand, daring to gather the slightest taste of the sleek woman beneath her.

A moment later, she was on the ground with a throbbing head. She blinked, wondering if she'd perhaps dreamed the encounter and rolled out of bed. Her fingers were wet, however, and she wasn't wearing her top. Holding her head, she scooted back to the edge of the bed. Although she was confused, she was primarily worried about Seven, who was panting and clutching her chest.

"Seven?"

"I-I believe I am malfunctioning." Seven didn't comprehend everything that just transpired, which didn't sit well with her. Generally, she knew every small fact about her body and its processes, so nothing should happen that she didn't understand. All she knew was that she felt incredibly good, and then suddenly, everything was all too much. The over-stimulation had caused a sort of fatal crash in her processors.

Janeway sat beside her but didn't touch her. Concern laced her voice as she asked, "How so?"

Seven didn't answer straightaway. Panic kept her lips sealed-there was no way Janeway would ever let her attempt intimacy again, not after that catastrophe. Without intimacy, then she feared there could be no relationship. Everything was ruined because her damn body couldn't simply relax and do as it was told. Her thoughts crashed to a halt as Janeway's hand came to rest on her thigh.

"You can say whatever you need to," Janeway murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."

Aware that a stray tear had straggled down her cheek, she hastily wiped the moisture away, glad that only the captain was around to see her weakness. Even if she hadn't cried, Janeway would have known there was something amiss; Janeway could deduce from even a blank mien that a storm of virulent emotions raged within her. For the first time since her severance from the Borg, self-loathing swirled about in her belly, and she wanted nothing more than to delete her humanity in favor of the hive mind.

When she was finally certain that her voice wouldn't quaver, she said, "I failed."

"Failed?"

"Yes."

"At what?"

"I ruined our sexual encounter," Seven clarified.

"Nothing was ruined, Seven. If you weren't ready, then forcing yourself through it would have ruined the encounter. I'm glad you stopped me."

"Glad."

"Of course."

Seven stared down at the implant on her hand. "I do not understand. I want this."

"May I ask why? Because a relationship doesn't have to have a sexual element to be legitimate."

"Then what makes a romantic relationship different from any other connection between life forms?"

Janeway hesitated and placed a hand over Seven's. She brushed her fingers along the smooth metal of the implant and considered her response, knowing full well that Seven would take her both literally and seriously.

"If you strip away the connotations, I suppose there is no difference, other than the semantics," she started. She lifted her gaze to Seven's. "More than one person consents to be with one another. In all relationships, whether platonic, romantic, sexual, or otherwise, there is some modicum of trust. But each form of relationship can exist at the same time as the others or completely separately.

"What I mean is that I view our relationship as romantic, which means I've chosen to spend my free time with you, to invest my trust in you. You, of all the beings in the galaxy. If our relationship remains purely romantic, you'll hear no complaints from me. Not because you're not attractive to me sexually, because you are, but because you don't need both to have a happy union between beings."

"I see."

Janeway held Seven's hand to her chest. "Please don't pressure yourself into what you perceive as appropriate behavior for a relationship because there are myriad variations."

"When I process information regarding you and sexual pleasure, my body responds," Seven replied evenly, withdrawing her hand. She felt miffed that Janeway would think so little of her. "I am not pursuing you sexually because that is what I perceive as appropriate behavior. I am doing so because I have been taught to explore myself and appreciate individuality. I find you sexually attractive, we are in a relationship, and I want more."

Janeway realized her misstep and sighed. "I wasn't trying to condescend, Seven. I just realize that I have more experience in this arena than you."

"That does not make me ill-informed."

"I know."

Seven's posture relaxed. "Very well."

"Given that this is something you want, we should explore what went wrong. You say you malfunctioned? What does that mean?"

"The sensors that process information overloaded and nearly shut down my systems."

"You know, this planet has been affected all our technology in some way or another."

Seven shook her head. "I have been checked by the Doctor. The technological aspects of my physiology are not broken."

"Nothing is broken, perhaps, but is anything over-performing? The phasers haven't decayed at all but are instead shooting at nearly four hundred percent power."

"I had not considered that."

Janeway smiled at her and lifted the straps of Seven's negligee back up. She retrieved her bra and top and redressed quickly before rejoining Seven on the bed. Cupping Seven's cheek, she said, "We'll try this another time. I promise."

"I will not fail again."

* * *

Janeway watched her young assistant skip around the bridge and hid a smile behind her hand. While she was disappointed that Neelix had changed the roster around so that Seven was no longer her partner for the week, she had to admit that there was no harm in spending time with the youngest member of her crew. Naomi was a bright child, and Janeway looked forward to helping her grow even more over the course of the week.

"Have you found it, yet?"

"What does it look like?" Naomi peered at the nearest console.

"That would make this too easy. Just think. If someone were attending to the ship's life support systems, what controls might be necessary to have on a console?"

"Something to see power levels and oxygen saturation."

"Good. Start there."

While Naomi continued her hunt, Janeway glanced down at the padd she held-delivered to her quarters bright and early by an all-too-awake Tuvok. She appreciated the hard work he put into all his endeavors, but after the night before, she wished she had a few more minutes of personal time before reality set back in. She felt as though she'd rescued the moment with Seven, who remained with her for a meal before departing for some sort of get together with Tom and B'Elanna. She was glad Seven was making friends, but she'd spent the rest of her evening worrying about the taller woman.

Seven's magnificent processing power meant that she could come to conclusions much faster than the average person, which meant that if she incorrectly assessed the evening, she'd be much too rooted in her misperceptions by the time Janeway got to speak privately with her again. She could only hope that the time with Tom and B'Elanna proved to be a proper distraction, so that Seven was moping in the same negative mindset as just after the incident.

"Is this it?"

Breaking free from her thoughts, Janeway shook her head. "Not quite, but you're getting close."

According to Tuvok's padd, a roster for shore leave had been created and, pending her approval, would be distributed among the crew that day. She reviewed his instructions, which set strict parameters on where the crew could go while off-duty and what they could do. He was clear and concise as always, and she pressed her thumb to the padd to give her approval.

The next item on the padd was a copy of Neelix's partnership roster. Apparently, he'd paired up the most unlikely of duos, and Tuvok was less than pleased by the impact it had on their potential for progress. Chakotay didn't seem as upset by the delays, but he was more likely to value the team building rather than mourn the lost potential. She'd given Neelix her word that he could proceed, and she wasn't going to renege because of Tuvok's anticipatory anxiety. If there was a significant impact on work production, she'd shut the whole thing down-for now, however, she would enjoy the small change in her work day.

"This time, for real," Naomi called, pointing at a large console screen.

"Very good," Janeway replied. "Can you tell me all of its functions?"

Naomi scampered back to her side and plopped down in the first officer's chair. She was much too small for the large seat, but Janeway was sure she'd grow into it. While Naomi reviewed the information she'd learned that afternoon, Janeway listened with rapt attention and wondered how Seven was getting along with her new assignment.

Down in the airponics bay, Seven stood wordlessly next to Chakotay. The commander had his fingers dipped into the dirt of a planter and seemed to be deep in thought. She didn't understand why he was wasting his time here when there were clearly more important issues to be resolved. He insisted that if they couldn't get their plants growing again, then they would be facing a food production issue. She didn't understand why they did not simply go outside and catalogue edible foods. Certainly Neelix would relish in the opportunity to discover new food stuffs and create a bevy of untasted recipes. Additionally, Chakotay had no specialty in this area, so spending his time here was inefficient.

"The soil is struggling in this atmosphere," he announced, withdrawing his fingers. She supposed he must consider himself an expert to sound so sure.

"There is only a minimal difference between Voyager's internal atmosphere and this planet's." He may have been an archaeologist in earlier time in his life, but his skills as a scientist were definitely lacking. Rather than consult numbers, which never lied, he preferred gut instinct and feelings. How anyone could rely on emotions for stability and answers was beyond her.

"What if the suns-"

Seven gritted her teeth and fought to keep her mien passive. She was incredibly tired of having to hear about the damage the suns were wreaking, especially given the fiasco of the previous night, and she didn't need Chakotay to explain to her what impact they might have on their crops. She was less concerned with why the plants were failing and more interested in what they could do to fix the problem.

"Extra water could be used to compensate," she said. "Someone will be assigned to fetching some so that we do not misuse our generated resources."

"Good idea, Seven." He smiled at her, but she didn't return the expression. She didn't understand the human need to constantly display their teeth in what was supposed to be a friendly fashion. Most animals only bared their teeth as a sign of aggression.

"I am aware."

He slapped a hand on her shoulder. "I can tell this isn't really interesting to you. What would you like to look into next?"

"You are the commanding officer." She tilted her head up. "I will do as you deem fit."

"Tell me something, Seven." He leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest.

"Yes."

"You don't seem particularly enthused to be here."

This wasn't a question, but she supposed he was digging for information nonetheless. "Your assessment is accurate."

"Is it me?"

"Explain."

"I mean, are you upset because you were partnered with me? I understand we've had our differences in the past, but I was hoping to move beyond them."

"I am not upset," she replied, meeting his gaze directly. The word 'upset' was too strong for her current emotional state. Aggrieved was perhaps suitable, as was frustrated-but not upset. She had thought she'd be assigned to Captain Janeway for the week, and part of her was certain that this unforeseen swap was due to her failed attempt at intimacy. She'd wanted to talk to Janeway that morning, but thus far, their schedules hadn't aligned.

"You're not happy, either."

"No."

"I'm a fairly good listener."

She evaluated him for several seconds and dismissed the idea of confiding in him. While their relationship was significantly less contentious than when they met, she didn't value his opinion. Additionally, to her knowledge, he had not partaken in a romantic venture during his time on Voyager, which detracted from his ability to give useful advice.

"What other matters must we attend to today?"

"The shielding system needs a full diagnostic run when the interference is at its weakest, which won't be until later on. Several crew members have been assigned to rebuilding any damaged areas, but I'm afraid we'd only get in the way. For the time being, our job is simply to make sure everyone and everything is going properly. Was there anything you needed to get done?"

"I will check in on the robot later this afternoon. If there is nothing else pressing, I will help Lt. Torres with the thrusters."

"Sounds good to me." His smile didn't fade, even when she narrowed her eyes. She hadn't realized that he would accompany her, but she supposed she ought to have.

"I also must engage in a private discussion with the captain."

"What would you like to do first?"

With a quiet sigh, she gestured to the door. "We will check Lt. Torres's progress. We will then meet with the robot. At the end of the day, when we part ways, I will have my meeting with the captain."

"After you."

She moved past him, tempering her frustration with the knowledge that this was only temporary. She'd ask Janeway later to end this practice, as spending time with Chakotay did not benefit her in any way.

* * *

Harry ate slowly, taking small bites and chewing more than necessary. His body was so tired, and doing anything more would exert more energy than he was taking in. If not for Tom watching him closely, he might have foregone eating entirely. As it were, however, Tom was indeed sitting right next to him, monitoring his progress and telling him of everything he had missed. The latest important news was apparently about Seven.

"She actually came to movie night."

He swallowed and lifted his eyes, sure he'd misheard. "What?"

"I know."

"She never goes to anything."

"Well, she went to this."

"What was she like?" Harry propped himself up and let his thoughts drift dreamily away. He always did fall for impossibilities, and he'd learned early on that his crush on Seven would be fruitless. Still, it didn't hurt to fantasize.

"Stiff. The usual cold demeanor, y'know?"

"Really?"

"She relaxed a bit around B'Elanna, and they talked about something before I got there-but I haven't been able to get it out of 'Lanna, yet."

"What does Seven have to talk to B'Elanna about?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"I wish I'd been there."

Tom rolled his eyes and pushed the tray of food closer. "Get your strength back up, and I'm sure you'll be there next time."

"Do you think she'll come to the next one?"

"Maybe. Depends on if B'Elanna asks her."

"She should. And I should be there."

"Harry… she's not going to go for you."

Harry tried to sit a little straighter but ended up groaning under the effort. "You don't know that."

Tom shifted his gaze from Harry to the captain, who had just entered with Naomi hot on her heels. "I do know that, actually."

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "How?"

"I have it on good intelligence that she's interested in someone else entirely."

"Who?"

"Captain Janeway."

"What?" Harry sputtered. He twisted and spotted the captain right over his shoulder. That she was approaching made much more sense-Tom was calling a greeting, not answering his question. "Oh, hello, Captain."

"Hello, Harry. It's good to see you up and about. How are you recovering?"

"Well enough," he replied, feeling a little small. "I'll be ready for active duty again shortly."

"Very good. You two enjoy your lunch."

As soon as she walked away, Harry turned back to Tom. "So?"

Tom smirked and shrugged. "I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually. I'm not supposed to talk about it."

"Come on, Tom. You don't keep anything from me."

"Maybe I just don't want an angry Borg chasing me around for discussing her business."

"That's never stopped you before."

"You'll figure it out. All of us have."

Harry shook his head. "If it's common knowledge, then why can't you tell me?"

"It's common knowledge, but it's not exactly confirmed common knowledge. I'd prefer it remained a rumor until Seven and her mystery beau decide to say something." Tom imagined the trouble he'd be in if Janeway caught him revealing her secrets. Although Voyager was fairly clean, there were always exhaust funnels to scrub and propulsion debris to clear. He shook his head. Better to leave Harry in the dark. "So, who are you partnered with?"

"Icheb."

"That sounds thrilling," Tom teased. "Better than me getting stuck with Carlson."

"He can't still hate you."

"Oh, he can."

"We could trade," Harry offered hopefully. "You get along better with Icheb than Carlson."

"Nah. I sorta like getting on his nerves. All it takes is reminding him that I was a Maquis-for-hire, rather than a freedom fighter. I can literally hear him gnashing his teeth."

Grumbling, Harry got to his feet and hurried as fast as he could away. Granted, this wasn't very quickly, but he did his best. Tom leaned back in his chair, hands folded over his belly, and watched. The relief he felt at Harry being alive was palpable, and he was so grateful he could still tease the little guy. He checked the uneaten food on Harry's tray and frowned; Harry had barely eaten, which didn't bode well for his full and quick recovery.

* * *

"Power up the aft thrusters." B'Elanna leaned against the console and waited. She counted backwards from twenty in her mind and tried to keep from losing her cool-her partner for the week was a timid ensign from the lower decks who wouldn't make eye contact. Yelling would only send the woman scampering into a corner.

The ensign botched her first attempt but managed to get the second to work. The ship rumbled under foot, and B'Elanna watched the console for information regarding altitude, power consumption, and diagnostics. After a moment, the thrusters died, but B'Elanna was far from disappointed. She scrolled through the generated data and nodded, piecing together what it all meant. Intent on her work, she nearly didn't hear the doors sliding open.

"I am here to inquire as to your progress."

B'Elanna gestured to the console, aware that her explanation would not be adequate to Seven, who always wanted every ounce of information possible. Rather than answer a slew of questions to satisfy Seven, B'Elanna preferred to hand over the source material and let Seven draw her own conclusions. While Seven browsed, B'Elanna leaned against the wall near Chakotay.

"So, things going okay with your partner?"

"Other than her open dislike of me, yes." He chuckled and watched Seven work. "She'll come around."

"Maybe."

"She came around to liking you, didn't she?"

"That's one way to put it," B'Elanna responded. She knew they were much closer now than before, but she didn't quite know what Seven thought of her. Seven was generally blank faced, especially now that she was exploring her humanity and understanding that every vexation did not require a verbal complaint. It was possible that Seven valued the information B'Elanna offered and simply had the tact to avoid pissing her off.

"The data suggest that with a few calibrations, the ship could be lifted from the ground at least temporarily so that repair work can begin." Seven met B'Elanna's gaze evenly. "I will assist you."

"Anything I can do?"

Seven didn't look at Chakotay as she said, "Stay out of the way."

B'Elanna couldn't stop her snort of laughter. She clapped Chakotay on the shoulder and joined Seven at the console.

* * *

Holding Naomi's hand, Janeway left the mess hall and headed for the cargo bay holding their robot guest. At Naomi's insistence, they were going to see her dear friend. As there was nothing immediate that required her attention, she'd given in without a fight. Over the next few days, there would likely be too much to do, and Naomi wouldn't get a chance to indulge in frivolous pursuits as long as she was with Janeway. Once the shore leave rotation began, they'd be shorter staffed than usual, which meant more to do for everyone still on-duty.

They entered the room, and Janeway immediately noticed Seven and Chakotay near Scratchy. She couldn't stave off the easy smile that took over her features as she approached. Following Naomi's enthusiastic greeting, both Seven and Chakotay looked at her, and she was pleased to see Seven's expression lightening as well.

"I see we weren't the only ones who wanted to see how Scratchy was doing."

"That is correct."

"He seems to be settled in well here."

"Does he want to return to the caves?" Naomi peered at her friend and placed a palm flat on his plating. "I don't want him to be stuck here."

Seven's tubules issued out and hooked into Scratchy. She relayed the concern. "It is content enough here, although it is aware that it is behind on its quota."

"Apologize for the inconvenience."

Chakotay tugged on Janeway's arm, leading her a bit away. "You're apologizing to a non-sentient being? You might as well compliment a chair."

"If the chair is particularly good looking, I might," she replied tartly.

"I'm just afraid that you're letting your newfound closeness with Seven to impact your assessment of this thing's capabilities."

She stood still and let her initial flare of temper cool. Raging at him wouldn't accomplish her purposes. "I can't say I understand what you're implying."

He grimaced. "That thing back there is a non-sentient object, Kathryn. It serves a function, but it's hardly a living being."

"So, you're saying that non-living entities don't deserve our respect." How this related to Seven, she wasn't sure. Seven might have Borg capabilities, but she was certainly a living being.

"I'm saying that our handling of this matter is a little ridiculous."

Voice hard, she said, "We are visitors on this planet. Regardless of your opinion on robotic beings, we will not instigate any hard feelings-"

"They don't have feelings."

"Maybe not. But they do have the ability to destroy our ship and kill our crew."

He shook his head. "Lt. Ayala will figure out a way to protect us."

"I understand that Starfleet regulations have never been your favorite," she murmured, gazing at Seven, who pretended not to watch them, "but we will not divert from them simply because our potential trading partner doesn't meet your personal standards."

He lifted his hands. "We're just wasting a lot of time when we could just take what we need."

"If I've learned nothing else over the past week, it's that we have to value the time we do have. While this may not get us off-planet by tonight, I refuse to ruin what we have in the name of haste. If you're so concerned about wasting time, please lodge a formal complaint against Neelix's partnership program."

His gaze too shifted to Seven. "I'm actually not opposed to that. I think it's good to get the crew working with others."

A flare of jealousy sparked in her belly, but she kept her tone impassive. "Very well. Then you have no further comments on how I'm running this contact?"

His cheeks darkened. "None, Captain."

"Very good. You are dismissed. Please take Naomi back to her quarters."

Once he and Naomi had gone, Janeway approached Seven and placed a tentative hand on her arm. "You look stressed."

"Today has not been… ideal."

Janeway chuckled. "I can see that."

"Did you tell Neelix that you no longer wished to work with me?"

"Accidentally, I think. He approached me a few mornings ago about the idea and explained that we would be paired up. I panicked a bit at the implication that our relationship was anything more than friendship. He must have assumed that meant I didn't want to work with you, when the opposite is true."

"I see."

"I don't want rumors flying around. You understand, don't you?"

"I do." Seven withdrew her tubules from Scratchy and dipped her head. Abruptly changing the subject, she added, "It wishes you to know that it finds the plating idea interesting."

"How does it know about that?"

A rosy hue colored Seven's cheeks. "While you discussed matters with Commander Chakotay, I laid out the options for its opinion."

"I didn't think he was capable of opinions."

"It is capable of analyzing situations for ideal outcomes."

"I suppose that's what algorithms do."

"I also offered to contact its home planet once we have returned to our journey, as well as to pass along the information regarding the plating so that a rescue attempt may be mounted."

"Was it interested in that?"

"I do not believe it understood. It knows it was programmed, but its concept of its programmers is vague."

"Perhaps we can try communicating later, to let it know that contacting their creators could lead to their efforts in the mines finally paying off."

"I do not believe the robots care about the outcome of their efforts, only that they continue to work."

"Well, the plating at least will help them accomplish that."

"Indeed."

Janeway dragged her gaze away from Scratchy and smiled at Seven. "Now that that's settled, would you rather join me in my ready room to go over some progress reports or resume your partnership with Commander Chakotay?"

"I would prefer to join you," Seven said honestly, not realizing that the question had been a tad rhetorical in nature.

"Good, as I'd prefer that as well."

As they walked, Seven kept her hands locked behind her back. She'd seen B'Elanna hold Tom's hand, but she supposed Janeway wouldn't approve of the display of affection. No matter how much information about relationships she assimilated, she didn't think she'd ever know enough to perform to Janeway's standards. This worried her, as she also was currently sexually unavailable, no matter what Janeway might say to ease her mind.

"You seem distracted."

"I was merely considering our survival odds."

"We're going to get off this planet-"

"I have full faith in your efforts," Seven interrupted. "I meant our, as in yours and mine."

"I hope we both live a long while."

"Together."

"Oh." Janeway silenced as an ensign hurried past. Once he was out of earshot, she asked, "And?"

"I have concerns."

A sudden onslaught of anxiety constricted her throat. Still, she managed, "Concerns?"

"There is much we do not know about one another, as there is much about myself I do not know. Additionally, I am inexperienced in most things, and inexperience leads to costly mistakes."

Janeway relaxed; this sort of concern she could handle. "Like I said, I don't ever want to rush you through or into something you're not comfortable with. You inexperience is not and will never be a danger to our relationship."

"I trust you to guide me," Seven replied, tightening her hands behind her back. "However, I may commit some form of misstep that not even you could look past."

"You're not planning on murdering me, are you?"

Seven leveled a puzzled gaze at Janeway, who laughed. "I am not."

"Seven, the only thing-other than murder-you could do to hurt me is to be dishonest. I think our survival rate will only go up if we share our concerns and talk about things. As a Starfleet captain, I know a thing or two about negotiations, and I'm pretty certain we'll get through this."

Seven sighed and nodded. "I will do my best to avoid disappointing you."

"You haven't yet."

"May I present an observation?" When Janeway nodded, Seven asked, "I noted your behavior when Ensign Trumari passed by. You stiffened and said nothing."

"I suppose that's accurate."

"You are not prepared to share our relationship with others."

"No."

Seven bit down on her inner cheek to keep from asking why not. That was Janeway's business, and she would respect Janeway's position as long as she could tolerate. "Very well."

"It's nothing to do with you, I promise."

"Very well," Seven repeated.

"Right now, I have to be more than human for the crew. I need to perform beyond my abilities and exude focus and confidence. They need to believe that getting off this planet is my sole thought at all times, so they'll also believe that it's going to happen."

"Romance is human."

"Romance is sometimes seen as a distraction. Did the Borg ever have romantic dalliances?"

"Only in Unimatrix Zero."

"The Borg Queen understands perfection, doesn't she? And she doesn't dabble in romance."

The thought that a romantic dalliance was a blemish troubled Seven. She disliked being considered a weakness and a distraction. Her goal was always to increase Janeway's efficiency, not detract from it. "Your point is valid. I will not speak of our relationship without your permission."

"I'm not interested in controlling you-at least not outside of the usual command structure. If you'd like to talk to someone about this, you're free to do so. I just hope your chosen conversational partners understand my concerns as well as you do."

"Lt. Torres is aware of our relationship, but I am not yet certain she understands the stakes of keeping this information private. I will rectify that immediately."

"Anyone else?"

"I assume that Lt. Torres shared this information with Lt. Paris."

Janeway considered the two members of her senior staff and decided that she trusted them with the information. While they were both prone to gossiping, they were also loyal to her. As soon as they knew this information had the potential to harm her, they would be tight lipped. She wondered when she'd come to rely so unflinchingly on an ex-prisoner and an ex-Maquis but dismissed the thought. Everyone on this ship was drastically different than they were at the start of their mission, and she preferred to let the past remain behind them.

* * *

Running the simulation one more time for safety's safe, B'Elanna watched the projected results with a keen and careful eye. Her trembling ensign had been asking as to why she was being so hesitant when they knew the thrusters were working at least minimally; the truth was that she didn't dare risk Voyager's stability when they were still struggling to get back to functionality. Instead of relaying this, however, she shrugged and stated it was protocol, which shut the ensign up.

Finally, when she was all but certain that Voyager wouldn't be harmed, she slapped her comm badge and hailed the captain. A moment later, Janeway responded, and B'Elanna announced, "Captain, we are ready to use the thrusters. Requesting a rerouting of power for the next fifteen minutes."

"Granted."

"I will report in after our attempt."

The ensign approached, a little cowardly with her shoulders hunched and her head ducked. "You talk so easily with her. The captain, I mean."

"She's just a person."

"I know. But still… She's the captain."

B'Elanna grimaced. "Yeah, but the captain is also a person. You really can't forget that. Something about putting a person on a pedestal just never works out."

"Okay, she's a person. But she's so much more important than me."

Although she couldn't really argue against that point, B'Elanna shrugged as if Janeway wasn't their only shot at reaching the Alpha Quadrant before they died. "What is it you do on the lower levels?"

"I maintain equipment."

"Without you doing that, the equipment could fail." B'Elanna could hardly believe she was giving a pep talk to a Starfleet officer-but times had changed so drastically. She'd have to tell Tom later, and they could both laugh about it.

The woman nodded, still unwilling to meet B'Elanna's eyes. "Do you like being on the senior staff?"

"Yes."

"I think it'd be too much pressure."

"There is a lot of that," B'Elanna allowed. She gestured to their current project, which they need to return to. "You're getting a taste of that right now. Go check on our power reserves."

As soon as she heard that they had nearly double their usual, B'Elanna initiated the thrusters and closed her eyes. The ship jerked and shifted underfoot, prompting her to open her eyes and track their altitude. At first, they didn't rise so much as jolt up and down. Then, with a creak and a shudder, the ship shot straight up.

"Torres to the bridge."

Chakotay responded, "Bridge here."

"Move Voyager a few yards away from the crash site and set her down gently."

On the bridge, Chakotay motioned for the helmsman to do as B'Elanna requested. The helmsman was no Tom Paris but still managed to move the ship the requisite distance away. Before he set the ship down, however, he punched at his console and frowned.

"Commander, the ship's landing struts aren't activating."

He pounded his comm badge. "Chakotay to Janeway."

"Go ahead."

"Has anyone done work on the landing struts?"

"Yes. They were deemed to be in working condition as of three days ago."

He tapped a few buttons on the console between his chair and the captain's. She was correct-a log submitted by a junior engineer detailed the maintenance work completed. The problem, then, wasn't in the functionality of the struts but in the computers. He glanced back at the ops station and wished Harry were there to assist on this.

Thankfully, Seven took up the position, her hands gliding over the console as if she were playing a particularly simple piano composition rather than finding and rectifying a potentially awful problem that could crash the ship all over again. Her concentration didn't budge as the ship dipped down, and the helmsman cried out for her to hurry.

She located where the network had failed to connect, thus interrupting the message from the helmsman to the struts, and diligently reprogrammed as fast as her fingers would fly. Just as the ship tottered down to the ground, she activated the struts. Although the landing was harder than she would have liked, they were safely above ground.

"Nice work, Seven."

She glanced at Chakotay, thinking that Janeway would have realized the problem earlier. She stepped away from ops to stand at his elbow with her hands linked behind her back. Through the view screen, she examined the Pylosian landscape, which was actually quite enticing when they weren't fighting for their lives.

"I require regeneration," she stated, not bothering to listen for permission before heading for the turbolift. A short ride later-with no power interruptions to leave her trapped in the 'lift-she headed for her alcove and stepped onto the welcoming metal pad.

* * *

"Don't touch that!"

Icheb removed his hand gingerly. "I am aware of its capabilities, Ensign Kim."

Harry furrowed his brow and pretended to be very into the tool he was holding. He was aware that despite an even tone, Icheb didn't think much of him. That much had to be true, especially given the circumstances under which they both left the mining cave. Icheb had been right, and Harry had been wrong-and that irritated Harry as much as he was grateful to be alive.

"Good," he eventually said. "Then you know not to touch it."

"Very well."

Harry hated that Icheb always managed to keep an even tone, when he himself lost his temper so easily and so often. He grumbled under his breath and fiddled with his hyperspanner. Finally, when he'd built enough gumption, he said, "I should have listened to you in the cave."

Icheb inclined his head. "Neither of us knew the outcome of our actions. It was just as likely that I would be wrong as you."

"But you weren't," Harry muttered. He didn't need Icheb's kindness. In fact, what he needed was someone willing to tell him how much he'd messed up. He was tired of everyone giving him a free pass-tired of being just that green ensign who didn't know any better.

"I am uncertain what you want from me."

"Yeah, that makes two of us."

Confused, Icheb returned to his work, although his gaze drifted more often than he liked to Harry's furrowed brow.

* * *

Janeway stood outside with B'Elanna and appraised the damage to the hull of the ship. Naomi mimicked her posture and expression, humming occasionally under her breath. The sight of her little shadow filled Janeway with fondness, even in the face of the gargantuan task of fixing Voyager. Her ship had been beaten hard, she noted with a frown. While the crew had repaired portions of the hull, the area that had hid through ground had been crushed in.

"It looks worse than it is," B'Elanna said, her hands on her hips.

"Well, it looks awful."

"Awful," Naomi parroted. Janeway set her hand atop Naomi's head, and Naomi stood a little taller.

Janeway considered the workload and sighed. "The problem is we have shore leave scheduled. I'm loathe to cancel that, especially given how hard everyone has already had to work. We could be looking at a month of work with the labor we have available, not to mention whatever will need to go into creating plating for the hull."

Nodding, B'Elanna turned to face Janeway. She shielded her face from the brilliance of the suns. "I'm willing to forego my shore leave if you can guarantee time off once we're up and running again, for me and Tom."

"I don't want you running yourself ragged."

"I won't. But I'd rather get off this planet before anything else has a chance to go wrong."

"Very well. Request granted."

Janeway led Naomi back inside, all the while answering each of the young girl's questions. Naomi had an active imagination and a vibrant curiosity, which Janeway knew would lend itself toward Naomi becoming an excellent science officer. That was, of course, if Naomi chose to follow in her mother's footsteps. Janeway wondered if her own children would do so, or if they'd end up like her sister who fought incredibly hard to stay away from military life.

"Do you like Seven?"

"Of course. I like every crew member."

Naomi stared up at her and folded her arms. "That's not what I meant."

"I'm not sure what you mean, then."

"I heard my mom talking to Mr. Neelix." Naomi skipped beside her, unaware of the sudden physiological response Janeway was experiencing. "She said she thought you ought to do something before someone else got Seven's attention."

"Did she now?"

"But I don't think you have to worry, though. I seen how Seven looks at you."

Janeway nearly missed a step. "Oh?"

"But mom does have a point, just that you shouldn't wait. If you like her, you should say something because she likes you, too."

"Sometimes it's more complicated than that."

Naomi sobered as she walked, tucking her hands in her pockets and staring down at her feet. "Is this something else I'll understand when I'm older?"

"I think you can understand just now, if it's explained clearly." Janeway came to a halt and looked down at her charge. "In an ideal world, all you'd need is for people to love each other. However, that's only going to work in a vacuum."

"Like space?"

"Exactly."

"We're normally in space, though."

"We're in a ship in space," Janeway gently corrected. "Life interrupts our existence. While we might want to do something, life restricts us. Does that make sense?"

"I guess…"

"Have you ever wanted to stay up late, but your mom made you go to sleep?"

"Yes."

"It's like that, only what you want varies and so does your mom."

"What's stopping you from telling Seven?"

Janeway ruffled her hair. "For one, I have a whole ship to run. Everyone needs my attention."

"I think we'd be okay if you spent time with just Seven."

"Emergencies arise," another voice interrupted. Janeway spotted Seven rounding the corner and smiled. Seven tilted her head in greeting before continuing her comment to Naomi. "I am aware of the captain's feelings, Naomi. They are, however, strictly her business. We have discussed the humanoid capacity for gossip, have we not?"

"Yes." Naomi hung her head. "It's a waste of time and a cause of inefficiency."

"Very good. You will not discuss this matter with others."

"No."

Seven finally offered her a genuine smile, a rarity from the usually stiff blonde. Naomi took her hand for a moment, squeezed, and then scampered off. Seven straightened and met Janeway's gaze. "I apologize if you did not want your feelings validated in such a manner."

"She doesn't mean any harm." Janeway gestured down the hallway. "Care to join me?"

Seven's shoulders sagged with relief as she strutted to the 'lift and followed Janeway to deck three. As soon as they were safely in Janeway's quarters, Janeway released a puff of air and ran a hand through her hair. They were making progress, and she couldn't wait until they were once again in space, where life was still arduous but somehow familiar.

"Did you assess the damage to Voyager's hull?"

"Yes. B'Elanna's skipping her shore leave to help complete the work faster."

"I will do the same."

Janeway touched her elbow. "As I told Lt. Torres, I'd prefer if you didn't run yourself into the ground."

"I do not require the same leisure time as my peers. Regeneration is more than adequate to refresh me." Seven cleared her throat and averted her gaze. "As is time spent with you."

Janeway's lips quirked up into a smile. "I find my time with you refreshing as well. Have you eaten?"

"Not since this morning."

"Would you care to have dinner with me?"

"I would."

Janeway gestured to the couch. "Can I get you a drink while I program our meal?"

"Water will suffice."

"Did you have an interesting day with Commander Chakotay?"

"Interesting is not the adjective I would have selected."

Seven seated herself and crossed one knee over the other. She watched Janeway move about the cabin with a keen eye. She had no worries for Janeway's safety, but she enjoyed watching the way the older woman carried herself. Even in private, there was regality and control with every gesture and step. Seven didn't think that could be taught in leadership classes.

"What did you do?"

"He insisted on visiting the airponics bay, despite having been there yesterday. To my knowledge, he does not have a specialization in the area."

"No, but he might have an interest in the lieutenant working there."

Seven sighed. "He should not let romance get in the way of duty. You have made that perfectly clear. Why is he allowed dalliances, while you are not?"

"He's an officer not the captain," was all Janeway could muster as a legitimate response. Privately, she admitted that she held herself to a higher standard than she often held others. Chakotay could be seen as human by the crew, and he had a rapport with many of them already. She, on the other hand, needed the distance.

"I will not push you. I was merely curious."

"You and Naomi are very similar."

Seven's eyes softened. "She is a good child. She would have made an excellent addition to the Borg."

"Seven…"

"That is a compliment."

"Maybe don't say that to anyone but me."

"As you wish."

Janeway finished plugging in their order and waited for the replicator to give her the meal. After a moment, she slapped the machine and frowned. "We may need to see what Neelix is cooking in the mess."

"You wish to dine with me in front of the crew?"

"I expect us to both be professional, so there should be nothing to generate doubt."

Seven gestured to the door. "Let us go before the good food is taken."

"Neelix serves good food?" Janeway joked as she strode into the corridor.

"Good taste is relative rather than universal. There is some creature somewhere that finds his food delectable."

"Too bad that creature isn't human."

Seven dipped her head, a silent acknowledgement of the joke. She wasn't an avid laugher, but Janeway's humor nearly drew an audible response.

* * *

"C'mon, man. You have to tell me." Harry elbowed Tom when mere verbal persuasion failed, but Tom just elbowed him back with a wry smirk.

"You haven't had time to listen to the rumor mill?"

"It's ridiculous." Harry poked his form into the gelatinous blob that made up his meal. He lifted his gaze to Tom's. "People are saying Seven's with the captain."

Tom shrugged. "You didn't hear it from me."

"That's impossible, seriously. People are just-stretching. They spend a lot of time together, but they have a lot to talk about. It doesn't have to be something… something romantic. Right?"

Gesturing to the door with his fork, Tom pointed out Seven and Janeway entering together. "No, it doesn't. But look at them together. Tell me you don't see it."

Harry twisted in his seat and examined the way Seven attentively brought Janeway a tray and how Janeway's face lit up at something Seven said. He noted the casual brushing of their hands together, the way they stood a little too close together, and Seven's seeming unwillingness to depart from Janeway's side. He supposed this could be construed as romantic, maybe.

"I don't know. They look friendly to me."

"About as friendly as me and 'Lanna," Tom replied. "But you can think whatever you want. I guarantee, though, that Seven's not going to date you."

"She might," he groused. "Someday."

"Look, we're having another movie night next week, as long as we're still alive. I'll have B'Elanna invite her along, and you can take your swing."

Harry swallowed hard. "That's a little quick. I have to, you know, lay the groundwork."

"Uh-huh."

"Butter her up."

"Sure."

"Get her to like me more."

Tom laughed, letting his head fall back as he held his stomach. A hand eased his head upright, and he grinned up at B'Elanna. "Harry here was just telling me about his plans to woo our resident Borg."

"Harry…" She looked at him with eyes full of pity.

He stood abruptly, taking his tray with him. He didn't need that look from her anymore than he wanted the teasing from Tom. Without so much as a goodbye, he retreated. B'Elanna sat down and shook her head.

"Something's a little off with him since he got back."

"He's having a bit of a hard time," Tom allowed. "But he'll get over it."

"He'd better. I'm not sure how much longer I can stand him moping around."

"You Klingons are known for your patience."

She punched his shoulder. "Do you want to sleep alone tonight?"

"No, dear."

"I'm working straight through shore leave."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Last time you did that, you nearly bit my head off for asking how your day was."

"This time I have a vacation waiting on the other side. I got you a bit of time, too, and I've been saving up time on the Holodeck. Even if I bite your head off, I promise to reattach it then."

"I can get behind that." He took one last look at Seven and Janeway before clearing his tray. They certainly looked together to him.


End file.
